Life in Riverdale
by E. Beckham
Summary: Archie is in trouble for lying and sneaking out. (S1:E3) Archie sneaks out... again. (S1:E3) Jughead goes downtown. (S1:E7) Archie goes to the Whyte Wyrm. (S1:E8) Jughead's Party (S1:E10). Archie & the Circle of Stupidity. (S2: E2-4). Jughead gets suspended (S2: E10). Jughead and Penny Peabody (S2: E2, 7, 8, 12). Jughead and G & G. Warning: Spanking
1. Chapter 1

"Hey," Archie said, squeezing through the door with his guitar case in his hand and school bag thrown over his shoulder. He immediately noticed his dad's stiff body language and somber expression. The boy knew, from the stern text message he had received and ignored earlier, that his father must have already talked to Sheriff Keller about where he'd really been on July 4th.

The text simply said, "We need to talk. Come home now." The redheaded teenager knew his dad was pissed. His father rarely got angry, but lying was pretty much at the top of Fred Andrews's List of No-No's.

"I texted," his dad said flatly. "Where were ya?"

"Football practice. Then I was writing." Archie bent down and petted Vegas, who greeted him at the door, tail wagging and a few happy barks.

"Songs? Your music?" His father stood, taking a few steps toward his son. Archie could hear the anger in his father's voice and found it difficult to look at him. The boy felt his own frustration growing. He tried to ignore his dad's tone and subtle disapproval of his interest in music.

"I thought you and Jughead were on a road trip on the 4th. Then I talked to Sheriff Keller. So, I guess that was a lie," Fred declared, standing over his son.

Archie rose slowly. He hoped if he chose his words carefully that he could defuse the situation.

"Dad, we were gonna go, but…"

"You should have come to me, Archie," his father interjected fiercely. "We could have gone to the sheriff together."

"I didn't want to drag you into it, Dad," the boy nearly yelled.

"That was an error in judgment."

"Sorry, Dad," Archie sneered. "Sorry I am not perfect." He darted up the stairs, but stopped midway to face his father again.

"You know, you are pretty far from perfect lately, Archie. That's why you're grounded," Fred stated.

"What?" the teenager asked indignantly. "Are you serious?"

His father continued, ignoring the attitude and interruption. "So, in this house, every night for two weeks, 7 o'clock. You want some alone time with your music. You got it."

"I'm not 10 years old, Dad," Archie yelled. "You can't just…"

But the boy did not have a chance to finish. His father marched up the steps, grabbed his son's right bicep, jerked him sideways, and smacked his backside eight times. Archie was stunned into silence, his mouth agape.

"You wanna go for three weeks?" his father asked sternly.

When his father released him, the boy quietly said, "No, sir."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Archie retreated to his room.

* * *

Archie crept into the darkened kitchen, careful not to bump anything with his guitar case. He prayed that Vegas would not bark in excitement and rouse his father. Quickly he knelt to greet the blonde lab.

Almost instantly, however, the kitchen light clicked on, illuminating the room and startling the boy.

His father stood framed in the door, arms crossed over his chest, looking murderous.

"Welcome home, Ferris," Fred said without a trace a humor in his voice. "Sneaking out. Breaking curfew. Getting into fights."

"Dad, don't freak out, okay. I was with Josie, helping the Pussycats with a song they're doing at that Taste of Riverdale thing," Archie said, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Boldly the boy stepped forward, clasping his hands together, and said, "And I was hoping you would let me go."

"No, Archie," exclaimed his father, fuming. "You don't get to go wherever you want, whenever you want, and damn what anyone else says."

"Dad, this is first time that a song I worked on is going to be performed in front of people. On stage. Please, let me go to this, and then ground me for the next six months, a year," the teen begged.

Fred stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "We're not haggling over your punishment, end of story."

Archie shifted nervously from one foot to the other as his father advanced.

"In fact," his father said, "Grounding you seems to have had almost no effect on your behavior at all." He paused, watching his son's anxiousness increasing. "Bend over."

The redheaded teenager closed his eyes and prayed he'd heard wrong.

"Dad," he whispered. "Please. You can't be serious."

"Archie, there's been a murder and you are sneaking out at all hours. We talked before. You didn't listen." Fred unbuckled his belt. "Now, bend over the island."

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. His heart thudded in his ears and he wanted to run, but his knees had turned to jelly. The belt fluttered through the loops of his father's jeans, and then his dad folded it and stood waiting. Archie could see from the determined look on Fred's face that he would not be dissuaded from this punishment.

"Here," his father indicated, tapping the butcher-block island with his finger.

The boy turned toward the island and slowly bent forward. Archie could not believe what was about to happen. He had not been spanked, aside from the day before, in several years and never with a belt. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and he could feel himself starting to shake.

Fred moved behind the teen and steeled himself to the task at hand. He brought the belt over his shoulder and down across Archie's backside. The boy sucked his teeth and arched his back reflexively. The second blow caused him to whimper, while the third and fourth brought tears spilling down his cheeks. The final smack was the fiercest and Archie cried out, putting his head in the crook of his arm to compose himself.

Fred put the belt back on and waited silently for his son to calm down. Although his bottom stung and his face burned in embarrassment, Archie had to admit that his dad's anger made sense. The teen knew that he had made many poor choices. Even though the punishment was juvenile, the boy felt he had earned it. Unexpected relief washed over him.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I haven't been thinking clearly. I'll do better."

"I know you will, Archie. I forgive you. Come here." Fred pulled his son into a hug. When the redhead finally released his father, they both smiled and relaxed slightly.

"You know you're still grounded, though, right?"

"I figured," Archie nodded. "Well… I'm going to bed now. And I won't sneak out tonight." The boy smiled and turned to go.

"Not even to Jughead's treehouse. Got it?"

"Got it, Dad. I promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Archie climbed the stairs, hunching down to avoid being seen by his father.

At the top of the stairs, in the balcony, Jughead crouched against the railing. He watched the redhead uncertainly. Then, eye brows raised, he teased, "Are you sure it was worth sneaking out for some locally-sourced Munster?"

"I helped write that song, man," Archie replied seriously. After a few moments of listening to the Pussycats singing, he turned to look at his best friend, his expression quizzical.

"Not bad," Jug said, smiling. "I'd love to stay, but I got to shake down an evil Adventure Scout. Good luck avoiding your dad. See you." He clapped his friend's back and took off.

Archie scanned the audience for his dad. He found him chatting with Miss Grundy as they both watched the Pussycats on stage.

A cold sweat erupted all over the boy's body. Would his dad suspect that there was more to his relationship with Miss Grundy than just teacher-student?

Archie wrenched his eyes off the pair and resolved to focus on the Pussycats, the reason he had come. Their music was fantastic. He closed his eyes and listened closely, trying to remember every riff or phrasing that especially pleased him. He wanted to be able to tell the girls exactly what he had liked when he saw them again.

Suddenly, from below, Archie heard his name being said, rather loudly and harshly. His eyes flew open and, when he looked down into the crowd, his heart sank. There stood Mrs. Cooper, between his father and Miss Grundy, pointing a finger up at him in the balcony.

His father frowned and pointed at the floor in front of him. Archie nodded slowly and got to his feet. He trudged down the stairs, saying a prayer that his dad wouldn't embarrass him in front of Miss Grundy.

"Hey, Dad," the boy said uncomfortably. "Hi, Miss Grundy."

"Archie," his father said sternly. "What are you doing here? You're grounded."

"I know, Dad. I'm sorry. I really wanted to hear that first song. I helped the girls write it."

"Okay, well, I think you've heard enough. Say good night to the ladies. We're heading home," his father said.

"Good night, Miss Grundy," Archie said. "Night, Mrs. Cooper."

"Good night," both women replied.

"Yes, good night, Miss Grundy. It's been a pleasure to talk with you," Fred said, shaking the young teacher's hand. He turned back to his son and said, "Let's go."

Nervousness was quickly overwhelming the boy. "Dad," he started.

"Save it, son. I'm not interested," Fred said grumpily.

They climbed into the truck and rode home in silence. Far too quickly, they pulled into the driveway.

"Go to your room. I'll be up shortly," his father ordered.

Archie headed in the house, up the stairs and to his room. The last time he'd disobeyed his father... It had been bad. Please, Archie begged. Please don't let Dad whip me again.

The redhead sat on his bed. But soon he was pacing his room. He tried to calm himself, but nothing seemed to be helping.

Fred knocked on the door and didn't wait for an invitation. He strode inside and stood, hands on his hips, looking at Archie.

"Sit down, son. We need to talk." The boy sat on the edge of his bed, while his father stood near the door.

"I don't understand you, Archie. Lately, when I lay down the law, you seem determined to disobey me. What's the deal?"

"I am not trying to break your rules, Dad. It's just I really wanted to work with the Pussycats this week. And I needed to hear the song we worked on together. I tried to reason with you, Dad, but you just ignored me."

"I didn't ignore you, Archie! I said 'No.' And I explained why. You were _already_ being punished. Tonight is the second time you've ignored being grounded. _So, g_ _uess what? N_ _o more grounding_. _Clearly_ , being grounded is not the deterrent that it should be." With a deep sigh, Fred massaged his forehead and looked back at Archie. He shook his head and sighed again.

"But I know what will get your attention," his father said, unfastening the belt around his waist.

"Please, don't," Archie whined. "It wasn't that serious, Dad."

Immediately, the boy knew that he had made a serious mistake. Fred's face flushed and, through clenched teeth, he repeated, " _Wasn't that serious? Really? Really!"_

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Archie stammered. "I didn't mean that."

"Pull down your pants and bend over your bed," Fred seethed.

Archie had never seen his father so angry before. Without another word, the teenager lowered his jeans to his knees and bent over the side of his bed. He buried his face in his comforter.

The belt whistled and slapped its target sharply. Archie inhaled shakily. His father wasn't wasting any time. _Thwack!_ The boy whimpered. A third strike and then a fourth caused tears to run down Archie's cheeks. _Whap!_

Suddenly, his dad said, "Son, I don't like doing this. But…" and the belt landed again. "I won't be ignored. And you—" _Whack!_ "…have no idea how dangerous—" _Crack!_ "…the world is! There is a _MURDERER—_ " _SMACK! "_ …on the loose!" The belt cracked again. "You cannot be such damned fool, Archie!" Fred yelled, bringing the belt down ferociously one final time on his son's backside.

Archie yelped and sobbed into his comforter, clutching hunks of it in his fists. Fred surveyed his pitiful son, quickly rethreading his belt. He sat down on the bed and patted the teen's back gently. After a minute, the boy stood and gingerly tugged his jeans back up.

"Sit down, Archie."

The boy sat next to his father, unwilling to look at him.

"I am sorry that I called you a fool, son. You're not a fool, but your actions have been foolish. And it scares me. I... I don't know what I would do if anything ever happened to you," Fred said softly.

Archie turned and threw his arms around his dad's neck. He sobbed again, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Fred held the boy, saying, "I know. It's going to be okay. It's all going to be okay."

Finally, the boy pulled away and sheepishly stared at the floor.

"Ok, kid," Fred said, getting to his feet. "Go get cleaned up. I need a burger from Pop's. All I had for dinner was cheese and crackers."

They both chuckled and walked out of the room together.


	3. Chapter 3

Jughead walked into the school newspaper's office, intending to finish his latest assignment from Betty. Instead he found Principal Weatherbee and Sheriff Keller standing silently, looking at the wall of suspects that Jughead jokingly called their "murder board". Ever since Jason Blossom's murdered body had been found, everyone was on edge and everyone was a suspect.

"Hey," said Jughead uncertainly. He looked from the principal to the sheriff.

"Hey," said Sheriff Keller. Mr. Weatherbee was uncharacteristically silent. He liked Jughead and knew he had potential. But he had seen another side to the boy as well. One that worried him.

"Uh, what's up?" Jughead asked casually.

"I'm going to need you to come down to the station with me," said the sheriff, quietly.

The boy simply nodded and followed the two men out of the room. As they walked down the hallway, the teenager spotted Archie and Betty standing next to their lockers.

When they passed, Jughead said, "Call my dad." He could hear the nervousness in his voice as he spoke.

His friends looked pensive. Archie replied quickly, "Yeah. Yeah, we will."

Betty added, "Of course."

Jughead's composure was beginning to crack. When they got outside, everything seemed exaggerated. The breeze and sunlight were gentle, making the autumn day seem unnaturally beautiful. The boy tried to calm himself. He reminded himself that this time—unlike the last time a sheriff's deputy had taken him to the Riverdale Police Station—he was actually innocent of any wrongdoing.

* * *

Ten-year-old Jughead sat on the wooden bench, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, staring at the ground. His dark hair obscured his face, and his right foot tapped out a continuous distress call.

"Jughead, your father will be here shortly. Then we'll talk. Would you like some water?" asked Deputy Abney in a business-like tone.

"No," the boy said quietly. "…Thank you."

As promised, it did not take FP long to arrive. Jughead recognized the sound of his father's work boots on the wooden floor and glanced quickly at his dad, who was staring straight at him. The boy's eyes darted away.

FP shook his head and looked around for Deputy Abney. After the two men greeted one another, the officer said, "Come on, Jughead."

The boy stood up and walked towards the men. He felt his father's heavy hand on his back, propelling him forward. They followed the officer down a hallway to a small room.

Once everyone was seated around the table, both men turned to Jughead. Deputy Abney spoke first.

"Jughead, tell us about what happened."

The boy's eyes were focused on his hands, clasped together on the tabletop.

After a few moments, the deputy spoke again, "Ok. Well, let's start with, where'd you get the matches from?"

No response came to this question, and the deputy looked at FP for assistance.

His father furrowed his brow and said, "Jughead. Answer the question."

"From the junk drawer in the kitchen," the boy whispered.

"Why did you take them to school?" FP asked.

"I don't know. I just put them in my pocket. I kinda forgot about them until lunch."

"What happened at lunch?" asked the deputy.

The room was quiet, except for the ticking of a clock.

"Are you kidding, Jughead? Answer the question!" his dad snapped.

"I'd gone into the art room after lunch. No one was in there, so I was just going to read for a while. But then I got bored, so I started lighting the matches. …I'd watch them burn and then blow them out."

The boy shifted in his seat uncomfortably and seemed unable to continue.

After a short silence, the officer said calmly, "And what happened next?"

Jughead pulled his beanie down covering his eyes and did not reply.

"Answer Deputy Abney this minute, Jug. Or I'll put you across my knee and tan you right here," FP growled, grabbing the hat and pushing it back into place.

Immediately, the boy continued. "I started lighting a couple matches at a time and then I accidentally set the whole matchbook on fire. The flame got really big. I got scared so I threw it in the trash, but that made the fire worse. The trashcan started burning really fast. Almost like it had gasoline or something in it. I was trying to find the fire extinguisher when my art teacher, Mrs. Chalfont, came in with it. She put the fire out, but the table and some easels were damaged. And there was smoke everywhere. …That's it."

The deputy nodded and finished taking some notes. Finally, he set his pen down and looked at Jughead and FP.

"Well, I'll call Principal McCloskey now. It's clear to me that Jughead did not intend to burn down the school. But, still, the school could press charges."

"What would he be charged with?" FP asked concerned.

"Criminal mischief, most likely. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Let me go make some phone calls now. Can I get either of you a water or a coffee? It might be a while."

"No thanks, no," said FP.

Once Deputy Abney was gone and he was alone with his father, Jughead's nervousness intensified.

"What were you thinking," his father said, leaning forward. After several moments of waiting, FP grabbed his son's chair and turned it so they were face-to-face.

"Look me in the eyes," he hissed. "What were you thinking?"

Jughead trembled. "I don't know. I didn't mean to hurt anybody or anything. I just like fire."

"Jesus, Jug," his dad groaned. "Even Jellybean knows not to play with matches and she's four!"

"I know. I know. I'm sorry, Dad."

"Sorry doesn't cut it." His father stood up, unfastened his belt, and yanked it through the loops. He folded it in half and looked down at his frightened son.

"Dad," the boy said quietly. "Please don't."

"No, Jughead. There's really nothing to discuss here. I almost never have to spank you. And I appreciate that, because I don't want to! …But playing with matches! That was a seriously stupid move. And you are not a stupid kid. But you are a kid. …So, even though I don't want to punish you like this, I've got to. You could have hurt or killed someone, …like yourself! You could have seriously damaged the school, even more so than you did. And, you are still facing possible jail time or expulsion."

FP watched his son's eyes fill with tears as he spoke. "Do you really understand how serious your mistake was?"

The boy nodded and stood up, facing his father. "What do I do?"

"Pull down your pants and bend over the table."

Jughead's fingers struggled to undo the button on his jeans and get the zipper down. He stuck his thumbs under the waist of his pants and pushed them to his knees. As he bent over the table, he prayed to a God he didn't really believe was listening, Please let this be quick.

FP looked at his tiny target and could not believe that he was about to spank his son. Has to be done, he told himself. With that, he swung the belt over his shoulder and brought it back down across his son's backside.

The boy groaned, "Uh!"

The belt snapped again. "Uhhh!"

Another sharp thwack and, "Uhh-ahh!"

The belt fell again and again, and the boy sobbed until he was breathless.

After the eleventh lick, FP rethread the belt through its loops. Jughead pulled his pants up and walked to the far wall. He leaned against it, resting his head in his arms and trying to calm down. The boy hated crying so hard. His lungs burned and his head throbbed. Embarrassment and fury made him want to never look at his father again. His confused thoughts jumped from wanting to make his dad pay to hoping his dad could fix everything.

Suddenly, his father gently turned him from the wall and guided him back to the chairs.

"You don't have to sit, if you don't want to," said FP. He took his son's sweaty hands.

"I don't like punishing you like that, Jug. But I had to. Do you understand?"

Jughead, exhausted from the day's events and emotions, collapsed into his father's arms. He buried his head on his father's shoulder and began to cry again.

"Whoa. It's okay. You don't need to cry. It's okay. …Everything will be okay."

"Will it?" the boy sniffled.

"We'll deal with it. Whatever happens."

Finally, the tears subsided, but FP held the boy for a long time, gently rocking him.

"Ok, Jughead. Why don't you sit right here? You're getting almost too big to hold."

The boy slid off his lap and asked the question that was haunting him, "Do you think they're going to send me to jail?"

"Look, let's jump off that bridge when we come to it."

The boy squinted and looked confused.

"I mean, let's not worry about that just yet."

* * *

In the police station, Jughead waited for his dad to arrive. He hoped he would be sober… and calm. A deputy had delivered the teen to the same interrogation room that he'd been in 6 years ago.

Sheriff Keller walked in carrying a folder. "Forensics came back on the car. As we expected, there were two prints: yours and Betty's. But what I didn't expect was that your prints were already on file. Apparently, you—" The officer reviewed the notes in the folder. "You were charged with 'attempting to burn down Riverdale Elementary School.' But Judge Turner threw it out."

Jughead glowered as he remembered. "I was playing with matches. And that's a pretty tenuous connection for a sheriff."

"Well, Principal Weatherbee let me look at your school records. You've had a tough past. You've been bullied quite a bit too."

"Yeah, my name is Jughead. But I can take care of myself."

"That's what your principal says too," said Sheriff Keller, mysteriously. "Jughead, a boy like you, raised on the wrong side of the tracks by a deadbeat dad, bullied by kids like Jason Blossom. Who wouldn't want to lash out after all that?"

"You think... This is crazy..." the boy stammered.

"Where were you on July 11th?" asked the sheriff.

"I'm not saying anything else until I have a lawyer present. …Besides, isn't it illegal for you to question me alone, since I am a minor?"

The man watched the teenager intently for a moment, then collected the folder and left the room.

Outside, Fred Andrews and Archie stood waiting. Sheriff Keller shook his head in frustration.

"Jughead is not helping himself. I asked him for an alibi and he just gave me lip."

Fred nodded. "Well, he and Archie were working for me around that time. What day was it?"

"July 11th. A Monday."

"Yeah, I'll have to check the records, but I am certain that he was working for me. …Look, Jughead's been staying with us too. Can you release him into my custody? I'll talk to him about his attitude."

"Technically, I can't release him to you, but I can release him. And I can tell him that he's going with you. Sin of omission," the officer said and smiled.

"Thank you," Fred smiled too. He held out his hand for the other man to shake. "I really appreciate that."

Archie breathed a sigh of relief finally and tried to relax his tense muscles.

* * *

The sheriff walked a pale Jughead to the lobby. Fred stood and hugged the boy, though Jughead didn't respond.

"Are you okay, Jughead?" the man asked.

"Sure, except for Keller trying to blame all this on me, just like he did with my dad," Jughead spat.

Fred looked at the angry teenager and nodded.

After a moment he said quietly, "Listen, Sheriff Keller is not trying to blame anything on you. He just has to ask certain questions. He knows you were working for me this summer. We'll go home and get the paperwork we need to prove that. Ok?"

The boy took a shuddering breath and nodded, "Yeah, sure. …Sorry. When I get scared, I get mad."

Fred chuckled, and Archie smiled too. They left the station and headed to the truck.

Once they arrived home, Fred announced, "Dinner's in 10 minutes. I made chili. Go wash up. …Jughead, one minute. Archie, go wash up. I just want to talk to Jughead."

Archie shrugged at his friend and walked down the hall.

"What's up, Mr. A?" the boy asked.

"I get that you were stressed when with Sheriff Keller was questioning you, but he said that you were giving him lip. Is that true?"

Jughead crossed his arms over his chest and examined his shoes. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Ok," Fred said. "No more of that. Even if you get scared, or angry, being disrespectful isn't going to solve any problems. Understand?"

"I understand."

"So, for tonight, why don't you boys stay home and relax."

Jughead looked at Fred, making a curious face. "Am I being punished, Mr. Andrews?"

"Uh," the man shrugged. "You could call it Grounding Lite."

"Ok," Jughead said, almost smiling. "But you should know, I prefer being in my room and not going out." He grinned and walked down the hall to wash his hands.

Archie was waiting for him near the bathroom.

"What was all that about?" he asked.

"Nothing. Your dad was just telling me not to smart off to the Sheriff and that I am grounded for the night."

"What? No way. That's not fair."

"Hey, man, I don't care. I have nowhere to be anyway."

"Hurry up, boys. Dinner's ready," Fred called.

Archie just shook his head, thinking Jughead was lucky to have gotten off so lightly.


	4. Chapter 4

After his dad's equipment had been vandalized and Moose had been attacked, Archie was full of nervous energy. He had to act. He had to help. He couldn't stand feeling like he had no control.

"Let's go check out that bar where the Serpents hang out. Maybe you'll recognize someone," Archie texted Moose, who quickly agreed.

The redhead then texted Kevin and asked him and his boyfriend, a Serpent named Joaquin, to go with them to the Whyte Wyrm. Kevin reluctantly agreed.

As the boys stood outside the decaying bar, Joaquin reviewed the plan.

"Play it cool, just like we said. Keep eye-contact to a minimum," the young biker warned.

As a Serpent, Joaquin could get the boys in. But, even with him there, trouble still seemed likely.

"And Moose," Archie added. "If you see the guys that jumped you, we leave, and we call Kevin's dad."

They all nodded grimly and headed in the bar. It was loud and booze seemed to be flowing freely. A TV blared and several games of pool and darts were causing rackets.

"Moose? Anything?" Archie whispered as they moved through the crowd.

"Not yet, not that I see," Moose replied, stopping abruptly and staring at one of the guys playing pool.

"Is that one of them?" Archie asked.

"I can't tell. He looks kind of familiar," the bigger boy replied.

Archie walked determinedly towards the man. Behind him he could hear Moose saying his name, Joaquin swearing, and Kevin mumbling, "Oh, God! Stick to the plan!"

"Hey," Archie said aggressively.

"What?" the man said, turning to face him. "You got a death wish?"

"Archie," Joaquin hissed, grabbing his arm. "Back off."

"What the hell is this?" the man shouted at both teenagers.

"You like beating up teenagers?" Archie asked quietly.

"This isn't the first time one of you Bulldogs has come in here, looking to cause trouble," the man growled.

Without warning, the biker grabbed Archie and flung him onto the pool table. Men held the other boys back. Suddenly, the redhead knew he was in serious trouble.

"Hey!" a man bellowed. Everyone stopped moving instantly. "That's enough, Mustang. Let 'em go."

The man called Mustang released Archie and backed away. As the boy sat up, he saw F.P. Jones, Jughead's dad, striding toward him.

"I'll take care of this," F.P. said sternly.

For a moment, F.P. and Archie stared at each other. Then F.P. seized the boy's upper arm and steered him toward the door.

"Move. All of you," the man commanded.

Once outside, F.P. said roughly, "I don't want to see any of you back here again." Kevin and Moose nodded.

Joaquin said quietly, "Sorry, boss." The boys all turned and started towards Moose's car.

"Not you, Red. You stay," F.P. declared.

The other boys looked at Archie, who nodded and said, "I'm good."

The boy swung around to face F.P.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the man demanded.

"Looking for the thugs that trashed my dad's equipment. We figured it was the Serpents, angry for getting kicked off their land. But, now that I know you're a Serpent, I'm thinking this is personal," Archie said. "Going after my dad, his company. That is payback, right? For when he fired you?"

"Man, you've got a bigger imagination than Jughead," F.P. chuckled. "And that's saying something."

"This isn't a joke. My dad could lose everything," the boy fired back.

"You think I'm responsible? That I've been, what, waiting all these years for a chance to get back at your old man? No. No, kid. Life's too short. You don't know that now, but you will," F.P. said firmly.

He was looking intently at something behind Archie. The boy glanced over his shoulder to see his father's truck coming to a stop behind him.

"I called him the second you set foot in the bar," F.P. stated.

Fred, looking irate, barely stopped the truck before he was out and marching toward his son.

"Get in the truck, Archie," he ordered.

As his dad and F.P. stood talking, Archie knew he was in trouble. But he couldn't believe that Jughead, his best friend since they were little kids, hadn't told him that his dad was a Serpent. Maybe even the head of the Serpents. He had to know why—even if it meant being in even more trouble with his dad.

Archie could see the two men were still talking, so he slipped out of the truck and sprinted across the street and back into town.

* * *

Archie opened the door to Veronica's penthouse and scanned the crowd until he found Jughead, sitting in a corner near the food. Quickly, the redhead moved around the perimeter of the room, avoiding the women and girls at the baby shower, until he was close enough to his friend to speak.

"You were protecting him. That's why you didn't tell me," Archie said accusatorially.

"Relax," Jughead said, sounding concerned. "What happened?"

Betty touched Archie's arm, clearly hoping he'd calm down. Instead he turned to her and snapped, "Did you know that Jughead's father is a Serpent? That's why he tried to stop me from going to the bar, so I wouldn't find out.

Turning back to confront his friend, he said, "After everything my dad has done for you…."

"Archie," Jughead said quietly. "I can explain, okay?"

But Veronica leaned close to boys and hissed, "But not right now. This is Polly's day, so you two need to check yourselves. I mean it."

The boys stared at each other a few moments longer before Archie stormed out.

* * *

As Archie walked home in the dark, his head was swimming. Nothing made sense. His dad's business was in trouble. His best friend's dad may have sabotaged it. And, to top it off, his best friend had lied to him. Jughead had never lied to him before.

Tires skidded and screeched beside him and the teen jumped. Expecting his dad, he was surprised to see F.P. Jones looking back at him.

"Get in the truck, Archie. I need to take you home," he said calmly.

"Why should I?" the boy retorted.

"Because if I have to call Fred, who is also out looking for you, and say that you refused to come home…. Well, that might be the dumbest thing you do tonight. And that's on top of many dumb things you've already done."

Archie sneered, but knew F.P. had a point. He got in the truck and made sure he slammed the door extra hard.

The man shook his head but said nothing.

After several minutes of silence, F.P. said, "When your dad and I were kids, we were thick as thieves. We had big plans. We played football and were both starters. We even started a band. Did your dad ever tell you that?"

Despite his anger, the redhead couldn't help being intrigued. "No. What was it called?"

"The Fred Heads," the man said with a laugh. Archie groaned.

"Anyway," F.P. continued. "We'd heard about a big concert that AC/DC, our favorite band, was gonna have. So we saved up all our money and had a friend's brother buy us the tickets. But then it was time for Fred to ask your granddad's permission to go. My dad didn't give a damn. But Old Man Andrews was pretty tough. He said no. No way would he let two barely-sixteen-year-old kids drive 4 hours away to a concert. Well, we tried to forget about it. Let it go. Cause it was never gonna happen."

F.P. paused for a moment, thinking. "Funny thing about desperate people is that unreasonable ideas start to seem reasonable. The day of the concert we stole my dad's truck and went to the show. We had the best time. Until we were driving home, nearly midnight, knowing that we'd have to face our fathers."

Archie sat watching F.P. intently. "What happened when you got home?"

"Exactly what you would expect. Mr. Andrews was sitting on the porch and as soon as Fred opened the truck door, we heard, 'Boys, I'll meet you in the garage just as soon as I let Mr. Jones know you're home.'"

"Oh, man," the teen whispered.

"Yeah, we both got two whippings. One from your granddad for going without permission, and one from my dad for stealing his truck. It was rough."

"Whoa…. Mr. Jones... Why'd you tell me that story?"

"Well, Archie, you haven't been acting too reasonable yourself of late. But at least you'll know your dad understands… more than you thought."

The truck turned into the driveway and Archie's dad was sitting on the porch. Reluctantly the boy opened the door and stepped out.

"Thanks, Mr. Jones, for the ride and everything."

F.P. nodded and waved up to Fred, but said nothing.

Archie trudged up to where his dad sat.

"Dad, before you say anything, I was trying to help."

"It was reckless."

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter. I—"

His father was on his feet in an instant. _"It doesn't matter?"_ he bellowed. He opened the front door and shoved Archie inside.

"Get in the kitchen. _NOW!"_

This anger wasn't unexpected, but the boy was shocked at how scary his normally-calm father could be. He moved quickly to the kitchen and stood by the table awaiting directions.

"Archie, you went looking for a fight in a dangerous place. Then you ran off, despite the fact that there is STILL a murderer at large. I don't know what else to do with you. …I'm thinking that you might need to go live with your mother."

"No, Dad! I want to stay _here_. I'm sorry that I've been so …unreasonable. Please… don't send me away!"

The boy paused and moved closer to his dad. "Look, give me a whipping. I know I deserve it. I promise I'll do better!"

Fred's intense gaze lingered on the boy's serious face. "Ok, but if you take off into the night one more time like that, Archie, I won't hesitate to send you to Chicago. Do you understand me? It would kill me to do that, but I'd do it."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Ok," nodded Fred. "Now, about this whipping. Drop your pants. And your boxers. And bend over."

At the word boxers, Archie snapped around to face his dad.

"You heard me, son. Now hurry up."

The boy's stomach was writhing. His bare ass… The humiliation alone might kill him. The button and zipper on his jeans seemed to take an odd amount of effort to undo. Archie could feel his heart beating rapidly. His hands were beginning to shake too. He pushed his jeans down to his knees and then stuck his thumbs under the elastic band of his boxers.

As the boy hesitated, his father barked, "Hurry up, Archie."

The teenager slid his boxers down to join his jeans and bent forward over the kitchen table. The cold air on the naked skin of his backside made him feel vulnerable and embarrassed. The buzzing in his ears muffled the sound of the belt slicing through the air.

 _One_ , the boy thought, as the belt smacked him. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this, he thought. _Two_. Tears slid down his cheeks as he tried to keep himself calm. _Three_. Anger surged inside. A feeling of injustice gnawed at him. _Four_. He hissed and vowed to make no more noise. But after the fifth, sixth, and seventh licks fell, the boy's resolve had waned.

"Sorry. I won't do it again," Archie whimpered. He hated himself for pleading. _Eight._ His dad did not respond and the boy braced himself for the ninth whack.

Please, he thought. Only ten. Please.

 _Ten._ However, his dad did not stop. _Eleven_.

"Dad…. Please."

 _Twelve_. The boy panted and gripped the edges of the table. _Thirteen_. His knuckles were white and his knees felt like they might buckle. _Fourteen._

"One more," his dad said simply. The belt's final smack caused Archie to yelp. He wiped his eyes and nose on the arm of his shirt and tried to steady his breathing. Finally, the boy reached down and pulled his boxers and pants back up. He groaned as the rough cloth scraped against his tender skin.

Once he was dressed again, Archie wanted to hide in his room forever. But his dad said, "I hate punishing you like that. But I'll do what it takes to keep you safe. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah… I get it."

Fred put one arm around the boy and pulled him into an embrace. "Think you'll live?"

"Probably not," Archie mumbled, smiling a bit in spite of himself.

"Well, maybe after a good night's sleep, your prognosis will improve."

"Maybe. And maybe tomorrow you can tell me about The Fred Heads going to see AC/DC."

"What? Where did you hear that story! …Ah, F.P., you old bastard!"

Archie laughed and one-arm hugged his dad again, then headed upstairs to bed.

* * *

 **A/N Nothing motivates me to write like a review! So thanks, in advance, for taking the time to do so.**


	5. Chapter 5

Fred had packed his bags and loaded them in the car. When he looked in the boys' room, he wasn't surprised to find it silent. Jughead was playing a video with the sound turned down, and Archie was working on homework. The mood in the room was gloomy.

He knocked on the door and said, "I'm, uh… I'm headed out. Sorry to be missing your birthday this weekend, Jug."

"Oh, you will not be missing anything, Mr. A, I barely acknowledge my own birthday."

Fred smiled and looked at his son, who averted his eyes immediately. "Arch, can you give me a hand downstairs?"

The boy stood up and followed his dad out. They sat on the porch in silence until finally Fred said, "Look, all of this divorce stuff should be over by the end of the week."

"Why now, Dad? I spoke to Mom last week and she didn't mention any of this."

"Your mom moved out two years ago, son. There's no going back to the way it was before. …I wish this could be easier on you. But the time has come for your mom and me to finalize this divorce. Look, I gotta go. I'll check in. Be good."

Archie stood, watching his dad's truck drive away.

* * *

"Geez, you're as quiet as me today. What's up? Is it your birthday, too?" Jughead teased Archie as they walked to school.

"Oh, yeah! Happy birthday! Sorry, man. It's just this stuff with my dad and mom…."

"Look, I get it. When my mom split with Jellybean… it was awful. It still is. But some parts are better. They're happier. Less fighting." Then Jughead added quietly, "And Beanie's not around Dad's drinking…."

Archie was stunned. He'd never heard his friend talk about these parts of his life.

"Jug. I don't know what to say—"

"There's nothing to say, man. I just meant that I understand. The change is hard, but who knows, maybe good stuff will happen too."

"Maybe…" the redhead said. After five minutes of silence, Archie asked, "Where's Betty this morning?"

"She went to school early to work on an article."

Archie nodded.

* * *

"Hey, Betty," Archie called. He hurried to catch up to her in the crowded hallways. She turned and smiled.

"Hey, Arch."

"Hey, uh, did you know that today is Jughead's birthday?"

"What? No! Why didn't he tell me?"

"He actually hates celebrating it. Even when we were kids. He's never even had a party. For the last couple years, we have gone to see a double-header at the Bijou. This year I guess you'll be the one going."

"Did you say _he's never had a party_? Archie! We've got have one!"

"Uh… That doesn't sound like a good idea. Really. He hates them."

"Well, if it's just his closest friends, inner circle, he'll have fun. I'll take care of everything. I have to get to history, but I'll see you later."

Archie watched her hurry away and wondered how mad his best friend was going to be when he learned of his girlfriend's plans.

* * *

Jughead unlocked the Andrews' front door, explaining his favorite parts of the movie _An American Werewolf in London_ to Betty. As they entered the house, suddenly the lights flipped on and a chorus of "Surprise" erupted.

Jughead stood frozen, staring at the scene.

"So….This is why we left the double feature," the boy said, skeptically.

"Happy birthday, bro," Archie said in a sing-song voice, grabbing his friend in a bear hug.

"You _really_ shouldn't have," Jughead whispered. Then intently examining his friend's face, he said, "Ugh, you reek. Are you drunk?"

"No," Archie scoffed.

Next Veronica stepped forward and said, seriously, "Felicitaciones y que dios te bendiga. ¡Feliz cumpleaños!"

"Um, thanks, V. Thanks, everyone," Jughead looked around uncomfortably. "Uh, has anyone seen Betty?"

Betty emerged from the kitchen carrying a cake. She walked slowly, singing a sultry version of "Happy Birthday."

Transfixed, Jughead did not take his eyes from her lovely face.

"That was haunting, Betty," he said when she finished.

While the others cut the cake, Betty snuggled up to her boyfriend and whispered, "You're not mad, are you? I just wanted to do something nice for you."

"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions."

"Come on, Jug. Why is everything so doom and gloom with you? Why can't it just be normal for once?"

"I'm not normal. I'm not wired to be normal."

A loud knock interrupted the conversation.

"How many more people did you invite to this thing?"

"No one. Inner-circle only," Betty said, opening the door.

There stood Cheryl Blossom, Chuck Clayton, and most of their classmates.

"I know you didn't think you could have a party without moi!" exclaimed Cheryl.

"Or me," added Chuck.

"Hey, Archie, where do you want these kegs," Moose called.

For a moment, the redheaded teenager considered the situation. Then he hollered, "Screw it! One in the kitchen! One in the backyard!"

As people poured into the Andrews' house, the night quickly turned raucous. Betty refilled snacks and made efforts to clean, while Archie danced and drank excessively. Veronica, Kevin, and Joaquin stood apart from the crowd talking quietly. No one noticed Jughead sneak away to garage.

Several hours later, Archie went in search of his friend. After checking their room, the redhead found the birthday boy in the garage. "Hey, Jug, you okay?

"Archie, as my blood-brother, it was your sole responsibility to ensure that something like this never happened on my birthday. …And now we're here. …In the middle of a Seth Rogen movie."

Archie laughed. "This was Betty's idea, okay? I just went along with it."

"It's _so_ not me."

"It doesn't matter, Jughead. You're her boyfriend now."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're getting a party whether you want one or not."

"Ugh…"

Archie opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly the loud music abruptly ended. An eerie calm settled around them.

"What the Hell?" Archie said.

Both boys headed back to the house. People were streaming out the doors and, from the front porch, they could hear a man yelling, "The party's done. It's over! Go home!"

The boys stopped at the top of the porch stairs, looking down at F.P. Jones. Archie appeared sheepish, while Jughead seemed stunned.

"Eh, Mr. Jones… Eh, what are you doing here?"

"Well," F.P. said tartly, "Betty invited me. So, imagine my surprise when I arrive to find a kegger in progress. The house is trashed. I am guessing you're both drunk."

"Not me," said Jughead defensively. Archie's silence, however, spoke volumes.

F.P. shook his head, disgusted. "Well, happy sixteenth birthday, my boy. Here's your present."

He handed a wrapped gift to Jughead. "You can open it later."

As his father turned away, the boy spoke, "Uh, Dad… Are you going to tell Mr. Andrews about the party?"

F.P. stopped and thought for a moment. "No."

Archie sighed audibly and leaned against the stair railing to steady himself. Jughead, however, was suspicious.

"No," his father said again, now turning to face the boys. "Because you will. You'll both tell Fred exactly what happened here tonight. You owe him that. And, if you don't, I will. _And then_ you'll answer to both of us. Do you understand?"

Stunned, both boys grimaced but made no response.

F.P. cocked his head and moved slowly back up the stairs. "I said, 'Do you understand?'" he growled.

"Yes, sir," Archie replied.

"Yeah," said Jughead. His dad looked at him intently, but said nothing else.

"Next year, son, maybe you should just go to the movies."

Jughead rolled his eyes and walked back in the house.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Archie was up much earlier than he wanted to be. His head throbbed and he felt like he'd been hit by a truck, but in the light of day he could see that the house had been trashed. He had heart palpitations at the thought of telling his dad about the party, but he knew the consequences would be exponentially worse if F.P. did the telling and if the house was a disaster.

Jughead sat at the island, eating cake and watching his friend mop and cough and generally sound miserable.

"Long night's journey into day?" he asked, smiling.

Archie groaned, "Why is the sun so loud?"

His friend laughed. Archie's phone rang, displaying "Dad" on the screen. The redhead clicked decline, sending the call to his voicemail.

"I can't face the music right now," he groaned again.

"I understand. Me neither." The two exchanged meaningful looks.

"So, Arch, what's your dad gonna say about all this?"

Archie, too, had been wondering what would happen when he faced his dad. When they faced his dad. Surely his dad wouldn't…. The thought was too much for Archie to bear. Should he warn Jughead? Wouldn't he want to know if it was the other way around?

"Uh… I don't know, man. He's definitely gonna be super pissed."

Jughead's brow furrowed as he watched his friend evade the question. Archie was a terrible liar. Jug grabbed the mop his friend was dragging across the floor feverishly.

"You're a terrible liar, Arch. Just tell me whatever it is you're not saying."

"I don't know what you're talking about, man."

"Really? Cause your lip is sweating. And you're not making eye contact with me. I've known you long enough to know when you're freaking out about something. What is it?"

"Geez, Jug, you're so pushy. …Look, it's embarrassing…."

"Are you kidding? Remember how you found me living in a closet at school? I told you… and that was kind of the worst."

"Ugh, okay. Okay. I'll tell you," Archie said, glancing at Jughead. Then he grabbed a trash bag and began collecting the beer cans strewn about. As he worked, he spoke, "You know how I snuck out to practice with the Pussycats?"

"Yeah," replied Jughead, leaning on the mop.

"Well, I was already grounded and my dad caught me sneaking in after rehearsal. He was so mad that he…" the boy took a deep breath and continued, "…Spanked-me-with-his-belt."

Archie looked at his friend, who nodded slightly. Then he added, "I got caught at the Taste of Riverdale too."

"You did?"

"Yeah, Taste of the Belt, part two."

"Oh… Man…."

"And, you were smart to skip going to the Whyte Wyrm. That didn't end well either."

"So, your dad is going to literally bust our asses. Great. I can't believe you actually found a way to make me hate my birthday even more. Thanks, Arch."

"Sorry, man. I am really, really sorry. I'm sure my dad would never whip you."

Jughead shrugged. "Wouldn't be my first whipping either. I'll live. Let's just get the house clean before it's too late."

"It's too late," said Fred, dropping an empty keg in the kitchen doorway, causing both boys to jump.

He glared at teens for a moment and then declared, "Follow me" and walked out the front door.

Both boys looked worried, but moved quickly to obey. They found Fred pacing at the bottom of the porch steps.

"I wanted you to see what I saw moments ago. The outside of the house is trashed, and the inside isn't any better. So, please explain to me how a fifteen-year-old and sixteen-year-old managed to throw some Project X style party?"

"Dad, it was just supposed to be a small party for Jughead's birthday. Me, Veronica, Betty, Kevin, and Joaquin."

"So how did this happen?"

"Well, pretty much everyone from school crashed the party. And they brought kegs. …And I didn't stop it."

"Neither did I," said Jughead.

"So what time did the party end?" Fred snapped.

"Around 11 pm. …Mr. Jones ended it."

"Ah. Looking at you, Archie, I don't need to ask whether you were drinking, do I?"

"No, sir, you don't."

"And, you, Jughead?"

"No, I wasn't drinking."

"Well, at least there's that. You're both in trouble for the party. Archie, you're in trouble for the drinking too. But, first, clean everything! And clean it well."

With that, Fred stomped off around the house.

"You want to work on the inside of the house, and I'll handle the outside. You know, since the sun is yelling at you?"

"Ugh, everything is yelling at me now."

"Could be worse… no belts."

"Not yet..."

* * *

By afternoon the boys we nearly finished cleaning. The outside recycle bin and trashcan were overflowing. Two kegs sat by the door, waiting for Fred to return them to the Riverdale brewery. The floors were mopped, carpet vacuumed, counters wiped, dishes washed and put away, bedding washed and beds remade, and bathroom scrubbed and rescrubbed by a gagging Jughead.

Emerging from the bathroom, the teen proclaimed, "So I just remembered why I am a misanthrope. I just had a very bad experience with tequila and I didn't even drink any. We go to school with monsters."

The boy stopped and watched his redheaded friend, who was staring into the open refrigerator.

"You know that's the problem with these things," Jughead said, gesturing to the fridge. "You have to watch them every minute."

Archie grinned and said, "I think Dad will expect that we replace all the food that got eaten at the party. I was just trying to figure out what we'd need. …Oh, and the cold air feels really good. For a minute, I considered trying to crawl inside."

Fred walked in the kitchen and sat down at the island. "You boys about finished here?"

"Yeah, Dad, I think we're done. Except we were going to go to the Food Mart and buy some replacement groceries."

"That can wait. I'm going to check out this cleaning job, so sit tight."

Archie nodded and sank onto the stool his father had vacated. Jughead paced the room slowly.

"Nervous?" the redhead asked.

"Nah," his friend replied sarcastically. "I look forward to possibly having my ass beat for a birthday party I didn't even want."

"Awww, man, I'm so sorry. I bet I can talk my dad out of punishing you."

"Bet you can't," snorted Jughead. "And don't worry about it, Arch. Just next year…go to the damn movie with me, okay?"

"Yeah! Of course!"

Fred walked back in and leaned against the doorway. "All seems restored. So, on to more unpleasant matters: your punishments. I would not have minded a small group getting together to celebrate Jug's birthday. But, clearly, that is not what happened. And instead of ending it before things got out of hand, you had a huge party filled with alcohol for all-underage kids. And you got drunk, Archie. You've broken my trust. You've broken the law. Did I miss anything?"

"No, sir," Archie replied.

"No, Mr. A."

Fred looked at each of the boys and said, "Ok, Jughead. Let's get this over with."

"Dad, please. It was Juggy's birthday and he didn't want to have the party. Don't blame him. I deserve the blame."

"And you get most of it, Archie. But Jug didn't stop the party. He still has to face the consequences for his inaction. Now, sit down at the table. We'll be back shortly."

With that Fred turned and took Jughead gently by the upper-arm and led him up the stairs. Once they entered the bedroom the boys shared, Fred released the boy's arm and pointed at the bed. "Sit."

The teen sat, looking pensive. Fred dragged a chair in front of him and sat facing him.

"Listen, since you have moved in, I've wondered when we would get to this moment. As much as I think of you as my kid, you're not. So, let's discuss what to do here. Archie doesn't have a choice as to his punishment. Grounding doesn't seem to stick for him."

"Yeah, he told me."

"So, did he tell you about the alternative too?"

"Yeah, I kinda made him tell me. He said he gets a spanking. Usually with a belt."

Fred nodded. "So… you could take the same or I could ground you for three weeks."

"I'll take the same as Archie. That's fair."

"Have you ever had a spanking before? Should we talk to your dad first?"

"Nah, I've had plenty. Pretty sure he thought about whipping me last night while he was kicking everybody out of your house. He made us promise we'd tell you about the party. We just didn't get a chance."

Fred got to his feet. He moved the chair out of the way and said, "Ok. Take down your pants and bend over the bed then."

Jughead nodded and stood. As he had readied himself, the boy heard Mr. A. taking off his belt. When he saw it folded and hanging from the man's hand, his stomach twisted in anticipation. Quickly, he unbuttoned his pants, pulled the zipper down, and kicked the pants off. The boy hated the feeling of having his legs manacled. His plaid boxers were long and covered most of his thighs. He stretched out across the bed and waited. But not for long.

The belt landed and, for a moment, Jughead felt nothing. Then the sting and heat began to radiate.

Fred made sure the belt landed only on the boy's backside, not his thighs or lower back. He could hear the boy's raspy breathing and could see him beginning to shake. The spanking itself took less than two minutes to complete. After sixteen licks, Fred set the belt on Archie's dresser.

"It's over, Jughead. You can get up."

The boy stood rather slowly and stiffly. He turned to face Mr. Andrews and started to apologize. But before he could get the words out, he had been pulled into an unexpected hug.

"You okay?"

The teenager nodded, as he tried to stifle his tears. "Yeah. I'm sorry. You've done a lot for me. I'm sorry I broke your trust."

"All is forgiven. You're a good kid and I am so happy you're staying with us."

Pants forgotten, Jughead allowed himself to be led down the hall with Mr. A.'s arm over his shoulder.

"Did your dad ever tell you about any of the scrapes he and I got into as teenagers?"

"No, but I bet they're good stories," the boy chuckled.

"Oh, lord, I think I can hear my Pops saying that I deserve every ounce of trouble you two can get in."

They were both laughing as they entered the kitchen.

Archie looked nervous and bewildered. His friend's reaction made him wonder if he'd actually gotten spanked. But, if he hadn't, why wasn't Jug wearing pants?

"You're up, Archie," his father said.

"I'll make a grocery list, Arch."

The redhead nodded at his friend and followed his father up the stairs.

After the bedroom door was closed, his father said, "Tonight, you're going to be punished for breaking our family rules and breaking the law by allowing this party with alcohol to take place. Tomorrow, I'll deal with you drinking. Understand?"

"I'm getting two spankings?"

"Oh, yes. Jughead just got spanked for having the party. Now you're getting spanked for the party. He didn't get drunk, but you did. Now, let's get this over with. Everything down."

Archie nodded and pulled his gym shorts down, along with his briefs. He knelt beside the bed and leaned over it. He felt a breeze from the open window on his bare backside and he hoped that Betty would not hear his punishment. He resolved to take the punishment as quietly as he could.

"You're getting sixteen. Just so you know."

"Ok, Dad," he whispered and clung to the bed.

One. Archie held his breath and tried to remember all the chords in a Radiohead song he'd been trying to figure out on the guitar. Two. He imagined holding his guitar and strumming. Three. The boy hissed, realizing that his attempts at distraction were failing. Four. The pain in his behind drew his focus away from music. Five. He grasped his quilt in his fists and said a prayer. Six. He had not prayed since his parents separated. Maybe God… Seven. Would punish him for asking for help at a time like this… Eight. When he'd not even said a 'thank you' prayer for years. Nine. Archie could feel the tears streaming down his face and shook the thoughts of a vengeful God from his mind. Ten. The belt landed lower than his father intended, causing the boy to jump. Eleven. Ah, he grimaced. He could tell that being quiet wouldn't last. Twelve. UH! The boy buried his face in his quilt and tried to smother any more sounds. Thirteen. Aww-uh! "Dad…please." Fourteen. Awwwwwwwwww! Fifteen. Ooooooooooh, please. Sixteen. The boy's cries were only somewhat muffled by the quilt.

Fred dropped the belt and sat down next to his sobbing son. His hand rested on Archie's shoulder until finally the boy moved to dress.

When Archie stood, his father wrapped his arms around him and said, "I love you more than the breath of life itself, Archie Andrews. And don't you forget it."

"I won't, Dad. I love you too. Sorry…sorry for everything," the boy whispered.

"Ok, go take a shower. You smell like a distillery. Then let's go eat at Pop's. I'll get Jug to invite F.P. like old times. What do you say?"

"A greasy burger sounds like the best idea ever, which is weird because everything has been making me want to puke."

"It's called Hangover food, son. And it's a miracle cure. Now go! You and Jughead can get the groceries after we eat."

"Ok. Thanks, Dad."


	7. Chapter 7

F.P. walked into the diner and found Fred and boys already seated.

"Thanks for the invitation," he said cheerfully.

"You're welcome. Glad you could come. The boys tell me you helped handle the party-situation before it got _even more_ out-of-control. Thank you for that," Fred replied.

"Ah, good. So they told you."

"Well, they didn't really have a choice. I arrived mid-clean up."

"Oh man, even worse," F.P. chuckled a bit. "You okay, Archie?"

Archie's cheeks reddened. "Mostly," he said with a smile.

"I punished both boys, F.P. I think maybe I should have talked to you first, though."

"My boy's staying with you, Fred. I appreciate you taking him in and taking care of him. I have no problem with you correcting him. Thought about doing it myself the night of the party. But I thought they should have to face you. Your house, your consequences. "

Fred nodded, "Well, then. On to more pleasant topics."

"Yeah," Jughead interjected, "Like maybe a story or two about one of the times you two got in trouble."

"Us? We were saints, Jughead. What are you talking about?" F.P laughed.

"Not according to you, Mr. Jones. What about the AC/DC concert?" Archie asked.

"Or you," Jug said, pointing to Fred. "I believe you said that you and my dad got into all sorts of 'scrapes' as teenagers. Tell us about one of those scrapes."

"The concert was definitely the most trouble we got into," Fred said.

"Yeah, but what about when the cops picked us up for drag racing in Centerville?"

"Oh man," Fred sighed. "I almost forgot about that…."

"How could you? Your dad gave me fifteen licks with his belt and I can still tell you where each one landed," F.P. laughed.

"Boy, that's the truth," the other man laughed.

"Why did Mr. A's dad punish you, Dad? Why not Granddad?" Jughead asked.

"My dad would have been more likely to whup me for getting caught by the cops than for breaking the law. When we went to the AC/DC concert, he blistered both our backsides for stealing his truck. Otherwise, he wasn't too concerned about rules."

"Meanwhile, my dad was the minister," Fred grinned. "He cared a lot about the rules."

The boys chortled as their dads regaled them with stories of mischief and adventure and teenage friendship.

* * *

Later that night, as the boys got ready for bed, Archie anxiously said, "My dad's gonna whip me again tomorrow."

"What?" Jughead asked. "Why?"

"For getting drunk. He said we both got whipped for the party, but I deserve another for getting drunk too."

His friend nodded, understanding.

"I'm going to go ask if we can get it over now. I don't like waiting. I just wanted you to know in case you heard…something," the boy said.

"Ok. I could go visit Betty…."

"Nah, don't worry. I just wanted to you to not worry, if you heard." With that, Archie walked out of the room to find his dad.

Fred was in the kitchen, reading the newspaper.

"Dad? …Could we talk?"

"Sure, Arch. What's on your mind?" Fred said, closing the paper and setting it aside.

"It's about the spanking you're giving me tomorrow…."

"What about it?"

"Could you give it to me now? I just want to get it over with. Waiting is way worse."

Fred looked at his son's serious face. He could remember the dread he felt as a teenager waiting for his father's wrath.

"Ok," he said. "Where is Jughead?"

"He's in our room."

His dad nodded and stood up. He began to undo his belt. "Lean over the island. And, drop your pants."

The boy pushed his pajama bottoms down, which fell to his feet. His bare behind showed no traces of his earlier punishment.

"Archie, you are fifteen. You are too young to be drinking. I expect you to obey the law, and that says that you will not drink until you are 21. I will not tolerate you drinking. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I do."

"And, if you _ever_ drink and drive, or get in the car with someone who has been drinking, I will make sure that this spanking seems like a pleasant memory by comparison. Do you understand _that_?"

"Yes, sir. Definitely."

"Good." With that Fred swung the belt over his shoulder and brought it down swiftly across the boy's pale bottom. A red streak immediately was visible and Archie gasped in pain. _Swing, smack, sob._ Tears rolled down the boy's face and braced himself for the next lick. _Whack_. The boy prayed that this punishment would be over quickly. _Slap_. He groaned and stood up.

"I know it hurts, Archie, but you have to bend back over," his father said, quietly.

"Just give me a moment," the boy whimpered.

"No. I'll give you to the count of three. If I get to three, then I won't count this as your second punishment. Understand?"

Archie nodded. As his father said one, the boy bent back over the island.

 _Thwack_. The boy yelped and tried to quiet himself by pressing his face into his arm. Again the belt seared his now glowing behind. Whimpering, he continued to press his mouth into the crook of his arm. The belt smacked him low on his bottom and he jumped, resolving to never get another spanking as long as he lived and absolutely to never get two on the same day. _Smack_. Archie dug his fingernails into the edges of the island's butcher-block top. His dad brought the belt down across the center of his backside. The teen yelped and shifted his weight between each foot. _Whack._ His legs moved reflectively.

"Stand still, Archie. I am afraid I'm going to hurt you," his father demanded quietly.

"You are hurting me," the boy moaned.

"You know what I mean," his father said sternly, starting to sound angry.

The teenager forced himself to stand still, as he heard the belt whoosh through the air and thwack him painfully.

"Uh-uhha-uh," he wept. Smack and the boy squeezed the edge of the island even tighter. The belt slammed his bottom leaving a visible red stripe.

The boy's pitiful cries continued. _Whack._ Because listening to his son's crying was tough, Fred imagined the worst-case scenarios involving alcohol. _Thwack._

"Daaaaaad, please, no more," Archie whined. Smack, the belt hit a final time. The boy dissolved on the island, while his father put the belt back on.

"Take a deep breath now, son," Fred instructed, as he rested his hand on the boy's back. After a few moments, he added, "And pull up your pajama pants."

Whimpering still, Archie did as he was told. Then his dad hugged him and said, "Let's go see what's on TV." The teen nodded, still breathing raggedly.

His dad sat on the cozy sofa and patted the seat next to him. Archie grabbed a pillow and tossed it next to his dad. Then he stretched out next to him, resting his head on his dad's leg.

As Fred flipped through the channels, he reached over and rubbed his son's hair, much like he did when the boy was much younger and resisting sleep.

"Hey, look," the man said. " _The Goonies_ is on." After a moment, he bellowed, "Jughead! Hey, Jug! We're watching _The Goonies._ Come down!"

"Ok," came the distant reply.

Jughead, dressed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, slid into the room. He plopped down onto the sectional and pulled a blanket over himself.

After thirty minutes, Fred could tell by his son's slow and steady breathing that he was asleep, and by the next commercial break, so was Jughead. The man draped a blanket over Archie and gently took Jughead's beanie off and set it on the coffee table. He stood in the door watching the boys sleep for a moment. They both looked so young that it was easy to remember their ten-year-old faces, even their four-year-old faces. After one last look, Fred turned off the lights and headed to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

Fred had watched the video three times. He was profoundly shocked at his son's poor judgment. To openly provoke a psychopath and potential serial killer was madness. What had his son been thinking? Should he go to the high school and get Archie to take the video down immediately? Or just wait for him to get home?

Uncertain what he was looking for, Fred began searching the boy's room. Everything appeared normal: half finished songs scribbled on notebook paper, clothes in piles on floor, books in stacks. The closet was a jumbled mess. The side table held no secrets. Fred was about to give up, when he pulled open the boy's sock drawer. There, partially concealed, was a gun. Fred stood staring. Shock, rage, and sadness hit him in waves.

Finally he sat on Archie's bed, pondering how to proceed. Only one idea was clear to him: His son was spiraling out of control.

Downstairs the kitchen door opened and closed, and Fred could hear angry voices.

"Geez, Jug, keep it down. My dad may be home."

"You pulled a _gun_ on Sweet Pea! Are you crazy?"

"I told you he pulled a knife on me—"

" _Because you were tagging the entire Southside with your stupid Red Circle symbol, Archie! I mean what the Hell! …Maybe your dad needs to know that you're losing it, man!_ "

"You can't. You wouldn't…."

"He just did," said Fred, entering the room.

Archie closed his eyes and gripped the island to steady himself. Jughead's face paled as he looked from Fred to Archie.

"Archie," Jug whispered. "I am so sorry."

The redheaded teenager grimaced and dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. He turned to face his father.

"So, let me get this straight, son," Fred growled, slowly moving closer to the boy. "You made a video taunting the Black Hood and claiming you will hunt him down. You've been vandalizing the Southside in an effort to continue to goad this crazy killer. And you bought a gun illegally and then pulled it on a teenager. Is that about it? Have I left anything out?"

His father punctuated each of his last words with his finger to the boy's chest. Archie was certain that he had never seen his father this angry before.

"Answer me," Fred demanded.

"Yes. I mean, uh, no," he stammered. "I mean, yes, it is true. No, sir, you didn't leave anything out. …I'm sorry, Dad."

"I don't believe you, Archie. I don't believe you at all. You've made too many blatantly bad decisions. But I am going to make you sorry."

Fred unbuckled his belt and pulled it from around his waist.

"Jughead, you can go upstairs or you can head out. Your choice."

The black-haired boy looked as though he wanted to intervene, but after a moment simply nodded and walked out the kitchen door, shutting it firmly.

" _Dad_ ," Archie began, holding up his hands in an imploring gesture. "Please…"

"No! No more! Your behavior has been nothing short of unhinged. Archie, please understand this: You are my child. I love you more than anything in this world. But it is not _your job to protect me. It's my job to protect you._ Even from yourself."

Fred studied his son's face. The boy had been staring at the floor, but finally met his father's gaze and nodded.

"Ok then," the man said more calmly. "Now drop your pants and underwear and bend over the island."

Archie considered pleading for leniency, but one look at his dad's stern face and he complied. The boy turned, fumbled with the button on his jeans, unzipped them, hooked his thumbs under his pants and the elastic of his boxers, and pushed them both to the middle of his thighs. Feeling humiliated and nauseated, the boy bent over and held tightly to the sides of the island.

The teen heard the belt slice through the air and slap against his bare skin. The pain was searing. Archie grunted. The next blow fell and then the next. He tried to take the rest of the whipping in silence, but that quickly proved impossible. Archie grunted and yelped, as tears ran down his cheeks.

"Dad, please," Archie gasped. But his father made no response, except to land the subsequent smack.

"Ahhh."

 _Whack._

"Uhh-aah."

 _Thwack_.

"Uhhh." Archie's cries continued as the belt fell again and again.

"Five more, son, and then we're done."

"No, please! I'll never do it again!" His humiliation was consuming. How could he be begging like an eight-year-old right now? _Man up, dammit,_ the teen chided himself.

 _Crack_.

Five, he thought, whimpering audibly.

The belt hit its target again. Four. Ragged breathing and sobs seemed to echo throughout the kitchen.

 _Smack_. Three. "Ohhh."

The next blow landed on Archie's upper thighs. "Owwwwww!"

"One more," his father said.

The last lash fell across the center of the teen's backside. "Ohhhhh," the boy moaned. He stayed folded across the island for several minutes, trying to compose himself.

Once his dad began patting his back gently, Archie reached down and pulled his boxers up, but kicked off his jeans.

Just as the boy was thinking that he'd never be able to look his father in the eyes again, his dad grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.

"Archie, I know you're hurting. I'm sure I've bruised your pride too. But you'll live. That's my goal. Do you understand?"

"It's not my pride that will make it hard to sit in class tomorrow though," the teen said with an embarrassed smile.

"You can carry a pillow if that will help," Fred grinned.

"Um, no, that's ok. I'll survive…somehow."

"Good to hear. Now," his father answered, abruptly becoming serious again. "Take down that video. Right here, right now, so I can see."

Archie picked up his phone, worked for a few minutes, and then said, "Done."

"Good. Now we take this gun over to Sheriff Keller to deal with."

The boy nodded.

"Oh, and grab some cleaning supplies. You've got some work to do on the Southside."

"Um, they might not be so happy to see me over there."

"Don't worry," Fred smiled. "I'll be right there with you. Watching you work. With my belt."

Archie tried to laugh at his dad's hopefully idle threat, but could only manage a nervous chuckle.

"You mean with your belt still on, right?" the boy asked, uneasily.

"If you're lucky, son. …If you're lucky."

* * *

 **Ransom** **Note: I have your stories. If you want them, leave a good, bad, but not ugly review. Thank you.**


	9. Chapter 9

Integrating Southside students into Riverdale High was not an easy transition. Veronica, especially, was making the effort and dragging her conflicted friends along with her. After registration, she arranged for a few of Jughead's friends to join the gang in the common room for coffee and light refreshments. Although the conversation was forced and somewhat awkward, things were going pretty well, until a sudden interruption.

"You!" Principal Weatherbee roared at the students in the room. "Yes, you, come with me. Now!"

Archie, Veronica, Betty, Jughead, and several Serpents looked at one another, baffled, but followed the principal into the hallway.

Weatherbee stopped in the school's entryway. "Which of you defaced our school seal with this graffiti?"

"This is what they do, Mr. Weatherbee," Reggie sneered. "They tag their turf."

"My God, Reggie," Veronica interjected. "Could you be any more transparent?"

"Effective immediately," stated the principal. "No gang behavior of any kind will be tolerated in my school. As of this moment, no more Serpent jackets—"

From all around, cries of "What?" and "Are you kidding me?" erupted.

Weatherbee raised his voice to be heard, "No more Serpent jackets! Put them in your lockers now and do not bring them back on school grounds. All tattoos will be covered. Possession of any gang paraphernalia whatsoever will lead to immediate suspension. Are we clear?"

No one answered.

"Now get to class," the principal said, leaving angry Serpents and a few gloating football players to cast dirty looks at the other.

* * *

Jughead barely heard a word his English teacher said. He sat staring at _The Crucible_ and thinking that Weatherbee was starting his own witch-hunt with the Serpents as his targets. Indignation was clouding the boy's judgment. What would happen if he put his jacket back on? What was really the worst outcome? Weatherbee would suspend him or call his father? How would FP respond? Jughead could not decide, but he was pretty confident that his dad would not be cool with him getting suspended.

"Jughead. Jughead?" called Mrs. Alston.

"Ma'am?" he replied, coming out of his daze.

"Well, honey," the old lady said sweetly. "Class is over. You may go."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks."

"And don't forget to read Act III tonight."

"I won't, Mrs. Alston."

As he headed to his locker, Jughead decided. He was not going to allow the Serpents to be vilified just because they were less affluent, less clean cut, less _normal_. The football players were just as wild, but did they ever get busted? No!

As he stomped through the hall, Jughead remembered that Mr. Weatherbee had disbanded the football team when Archie started the Red Circle nonsense. Of course, he'd reinstated them almost instantly when Archie apologized.

 _Well, Jones?_ the boy thought as he stared at his Serpents' jacket hanging in his locker. _How far are you willing to take this?_

* * *

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Jughead said as he walked into the common room, wearing the forbidden jacket.

The room, full of Southside and Northside kids, suddenly became very tense. Fangs and Toni gaped at Jughead, while Sweet Pea glowered at Toni. He had just been telling her that FP's kid was going to get them into trouble.

"Take it off," boomed Reggie. "Take off that jacket, Rat Boy."

"Oh, Reggie," Jug said, quietly. "I don't think you know what this jacket means. Because you have no sense of honor. Or history, or loyalty."

"—That's it!" the football star yelled, grabbing Jughead and instantly starting a Northside-Southside brawl. Fists were flying. Bodies slammed against walls. The room was in chaos, when suddenly an air horn's ferocious blast startled everyone into motionless silence.

Their angry principal pointed and firmly said, "To my office, gentlemen. Now."

Once all the students had arranged themselves on the bench in the front office, Mr. Weatherbee declared, "You all have a week's detention for fighting." The students grimaced and grumbled, but no one openly argued.

Then the principal stepped towards Jughead, who stood to face him.

"But I made myself clear to you, Mr. Jones. Take off that jacket, right now, or you're suspended."

"Please, Jughead, just—" Veronica began, but the boy cut her off.

"Then I guess I'm suspended," he said, and walked out of the office. The teenager felt bold and justified in his refusal, but as he walked off the school grounds he realized that he didn't know where he was going. Home? No…. Jughead's anger and sense of martyrdom were giving way to fear that the family threat that trouble at school would be followed by trouble at home might be fulfilled. He was not at all sure now how his father would react. Although he was pretty sure his dad was at work, he did not want to risk it.

So he headed to the Whyte Worm. Video games and a cheeseburger or two would make a good snack before lunch. And give him time to figure out what to tell his dad.

Hog Eye stood behind the bar cleaning. He greeted Jughead when he came in. After a moment, he added, "Burger?"

"Cheeseburger. Thanks, Hog Eye."

The man nodded and retreated to the kitchen.

Mortal Kombat II beckoned the boy. The club had rigged the machine to not need quarters, so he'd gotten pretty good at it. After he'd wolfed down his second burger, Jughead went back to the game. As he played, he tried to imagine the conversation he might have with his dad. None seemed likely to go his way. Frustrated he slammed his hand on the side of the machine.

"Now, you break that, you buy it," a stern voice stated.

The teen turned to see his father standing next to the bar.

"How'd you know I was here?" he asked.

"Hog Eye called me," his dad said. "What's up, Hog Eye?"

"FP," the barman said, glancing at Jughead and shrugging an apology.

"You wanna explain to me why the hell you're not in school?" FP said evenly.

"Yes. Weatherbee has been disrespecting the Serpents. He's been targeting us. He told us to take off our jackets."

"Wear 'em after school," his father said unconcernedly.

"A Serpent never sheds its skin," Jughead retorted.

"I know the laws, boy," FP said, sounding angry for the first time. "What's goin' on, Jug?"

"The Serpents are being targeted. It isn't fair."

"Fair," his dad calmed down a bit, even smiled. "Yeah, life is rarely fair. You know that. Do you think I like cleaning toilets and shoveling slop? No. But it's what I gotta do. Going to Riverdale High, obeying Weatherbee's rules, that's what you gotta do. Understand?"

"Yeah," the boy said, nodding.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Maybe, Jughead thought, maybe I won't be in trouble at all. Maybe that was all, just talking. He relaxed as they walked to his dad's truck.

Father and son chatted amiably on the ride. The phone was ringing as they entered the trailer.

His dad, reaching for the phone, said, "Jug, will you make me a sandwich before I go to work? …Hello? …Yes, this is he."

The boy smeared peanut butter and jelly on bread as his dad talked on the phone.

"Uh-huh. …Really? No, he did not tell me that. …How long? …Yes, I understand. I will take care of it. ...Thank you for calling. …Yeah. Ok, good-bye."

Jughead stood frozen. He knew the call had to be from Weatherbee. Oh, man, this is gonna be bad, he thought.

" _Fighting? Defiance? Suspended?_ Failed to mention a few things, didn't you?" FP's voice was hard again. He sounded dangerous.

"Sorry, Dad, I should have told you right away."

"Yeah, you damn well should have. Go get the belt."

"What?" Jughead snapped around to face his father.

"You heard me, boy. Go get it. No way you're not getting a whipping."

"Dad…" he implored.

"Jughead, if I have to say it again, the situation will get worse. Move."

But the boy stood, immobile.

"Fine. Have it your way," FP said after a long moment. He went to the front door and walked outside.

Jughead's mind was buzzing. He got the flushed, dizzy feeling he always had before a whipping. He struggled with a terrible urge to laugh, standing there in the kitchen with grape jelly running down the knife and making a mess on the counter. It was so absurd.

His father's boots clomped back up the trailer's steps and the door opened. FP held a long twig in his hand.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Jughead. But lying, fighting, getting suspended… That's not you."

His father's eyes seemed to be boring into his own. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

The boy shook his head no.

"Turn around. Drop your pants. And grab onto the sink."

Jughead did as he was told, not really believing what was happening. With his jeans pushed to his knees, he bent over and grasped the metal sink.

Swish. The sting started slow, but rapidly became hundreds of bee stings. The boy's breath seemed knocked out of him.

Again the switch fell. It intersected the first's mark.

Swish. Smack. Tears rolled down the boy's cheeks, though he made no sound.

Swish. Finally Jughead gasped, oxygen rushing in. He began to shake.

Swish. Whack. His entire backside seemed to be on fire.

Swish. Thwack. The teen squeezed the edge of the sink so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"That's it, son. Stand up."

Jughead did as he was told. FP watched him closely, as he snapped the switch in half.

"My dad was a tough man. I don't remember him hugging me much. Certainly not after he beat my ass." A moment later FP wrapped his arms around his son. Sobs wracked the boy's body. Finally, Jughead pulled away.

"Sorry, Dad."

"All's forgiven. Let's get a move on, though. I've got work and you've got school."

"But I am suspended."

"Only until you've taken the jacket off. I assume you are willing to do that, right?" FP asked.

"Ah, yeah, but… do I have to go back today? How's that gonna look? I get suspended for refusing to take it off, and then my dad brings me back without it."

"I don't care how it looks. It is what it is. You're going back. Tell your friends whatever you want. It's none of their business."

With that, FP snapped his fingers, indicating that his son needed to hand him the jacket.

"You can wear this after school and on weekends. Got it?"

"Got it," the boy said glumly.

"Come on. Let's go."

"Dad, you still want this sandwich?"

"Yeah, you want to drive the truck so I can eat?"

Jughead perked up and caught the keys his dad tossed him. As he eased himself on to the seat, the boy groaned involuntarily.

His dad chuckled.

"This is funny to you?"

"Not exactly. Just remembering how often I was in that position. The lesson never seemed to stick, somehow."

The teen gave his father a bewildered look. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Now his dad laughed in earnest. "Because I couldn't avoid a whipping? Oh, I don't know. Guess I was just mischievous. It was never the things that you'd think he'd whip me for. …Mostly it was for getting caught."

"Well, that explains a lot about you."

His dad laughed again. They rode along in silence for a while as FP ate.

Finally the man asked, "So, belt or switch…?"

"Neither," Jughead quickly replied. "I don't understand the question."

"Which is worse? Me, I would take the belt any day. But my dad never hit me as hard or as long with a switch. But still…."

"Switch was way worse! Evil sting."

"Yeah. Agreed. So, I just want to make it clear, Jughead," his father said, sounding serious. "The way you really messed up today was not telling me any of the stuff that went down. I mean I'm not going to throw you a party for fighting, defying your principal, or getting suspended. And all three at once, pretty much guaranteed I'd bust your butt. But don't keep stuff from me. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah, I understand. I was gonna tell you, I think. But Weatherbee beat me to it."

Jughead pulled up in front of Riverdale High.

"Hey, survive the day, and tonight we can go see a movie at the Bijou."

"Sure. Sounds good. See ya later," the boy called as his dad drove off.

* * *

Jughead went straight to the office and knocked on Mr. Weatherbee's door.

"Come in. ...Mr. Jones? You've been suspended. Why are you back on school grounds?"

"I know, but my dad brought me back."

"That still does not explain why I should allow you to come back before tomorrow."

"My dad took my jacket, and he made it _really_ clear that I am not to fight or defy you again. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

"I see. Have a seat, Mr. Jones."

"Could I stand, please?"

"No. You may not."

Jughead nodded and tried to sit without gasping or squirming. When he made eye contact again with Mr. Weatherbee, he was certain that the man had correctly interpreted his reluctance to sit.

After a long pause, the principal said, "Okay, Mr. Jones. You may return to the rest of your classes. Any future fighting or defiance will result in a three-day suspension. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"What classes do you have left today?"

"Chemistry, economics, and French."

"Good. Hopefully that will keep your mind occupied. Mrs. Staley will write you a pass for chemistry. Have a calm rest of your day, Mr. Jones."

"Thank you, Mr. Weatherbee. You too."

After he had collected his pass, Jughead sauntered down the hall. How would he make it through these classes? For a moment, he contemplated ditching, but he couldn't risk it.

Mr. Jay took the pass and told the boy that his lab partner would catch him up. Archie was working by himself, concentrating on the task. When he looked up, he nearly spilled the contents of the tube he held.

"Hey, man. Ronnie said you got suspended today. How are you back?"

"I did get suspended. But my dad found out and brought me back," Jughead grimaced.

"And Weatherbee relented?"

"I think he …felt sorry for me. I did promise to be a good boy," the teen smiled wickedly at his friend.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Archie snorted. "So, was your dad pissed?"

"More pissed that he heard about it from Weatherbee and not from me. And, yeah, really pissed. Let's just say that I am glad it's a lab day. Economics and French will be the worst."

"What do you mean, other than when Monsieur Lemaire says, 'Archie, you murder the French.'"

Jughead laughed, "Actually, that's my favorite part of French class. …I just mean… I've been scarred. Sitting this afternoon will be torture."

"Oooh," his redheaded friend whispered, comprehension dawning. "That _will_ be bad. Good luck, man. Maybe you could fake a headache and go lie down in the nurse's office."

"Maybe. But I don't want my dad to hear I missed class. He's got his spies, it seems."

Archie raised his eyebrows, but didn't ask.

* * *

Once chemistry was over, the boys made their way through the hallway to their next class. Clearly news of Jughead's suspension had made the rounds, because students whispered as they passed.

"What is this?" announced an outraged voice. "You got suspended, Rat Boy. Or did you already forget?"

"Reggie…," Jug started, sounding tired.

"Reggie, shut it. Leave him alone, already," interrupted Archie.

"No one is talking to you, Andrews," the football player scowled. "So…rules don't apply to the Serpent Prince? Is that it?"

"What do you want, Reggie," Jughead answered. "I'm not wearing my jacket. What more do you want?"

"I want you out of this school, Rat Boy. I want you and your Southside scum to crawl back in the sewers where you came from! You don't belong here. You're a thug… just like your father."

"Hey—" the black-haired boy shouted.

"That's outta line, Reggie!" Archie pushed in front of Jughead.

"Mr. Mantle," a firm voice from behind them snapped.

Archie and Jughead turned to see Mr. Weatherbee glowering at Reggie. "Mr. Mantle, I don't like what I just heard. I think your father will like it even less. Please join me in my office."

Now it was the football star's turn to scowl. He shoved by both boys and followed Mr. Weatherbee silently.

"Well, that will make economics and French a little more enjoyable," smiled Archie.

"Maybe," said Jughead, still looking furious. " _Maybe_ if I thought he'd get in even _half_ as much trouble as I did…."

"I know, but come on. We're going to be late to class."

The last classes of the day weren't as bad as the boy had feared. Although Jug was uncomfortable sitting, Archie entertained him and made the time go by more quickly. During French, Veronica reported that Reggie had been suspended and that an angry Mr. Mantle had practically dragged him out of the school.

Jughead and Archie exchanged surprised looks, but said nothing.

After their presentations on various French holidays, school was over and Jughead was free. He hoped to take a long nap, see a movie with his dad, and go to bed early. Man, it had been a rough day. He wasn't even hungry.

* * *

The next morning a slightly-sore Jughead was settled in English, trying to finish the last part of Act III of _The Crucible_ when Reggie Mantle sat down next to him.

"Jones," the boy said, in a tone that caught Jug off-guard. Reggie had none of his usual arrogance and swagger.

"Jones, look, I'm sorry for everything yesterday."

"What? What are you talking about, Reggie?"

"I don't really think you are trash or that you should be kicked out. …I don't know why I said all that."

"Did Weatherbee put you up to this?" the black-haired teen asked suspiciously.

"No," the football player snapped.

When Jughead looked unconvinced, Reggie admitted, " _Okay_ , my dad made me. Apparently, he and your dad are _actually_ _friends._ If he found out I didn't apologize…. Well, if anybody asks, just tell them I did. …Okay?"

"Why should I?"

"Jughead," the athlete said, sounding nervous. " _Please_ don't mess with me. My dad will kick my ass… some more."

Jug nodded his head, surprised. " _Geez_ , I guess they _are_ _friends_. …Don't worry, Reggie. If anyone asks, I tell 'em the truth. As long as you leave me and the rest of the Serpents alone."

"Will do, Jones," Reggie said and stuck his hand out. The two boys shook, just as Mrs. Alston called the class to order.

* * *

 **Author's note: My last _Riverdale_ story will be about Jughead, the snake charmer, and FP. If you want to read it, leave me a review. Remember, any review is welcome as long as it's good, bad, or constructive, but not ugly. Thank you.**


	10. Chapter 10

Jughead entered the tattoo shop, feeling uneasy. No way could this be the right place to find a lawyer. He approached the scruffy man tattooing another man's arm.

"I'm, uh, here for Penny Peabody," the boy said uncertainly.

The man didn't even look up from his work, but merely jerked his head to the left. Jughead walked down a narrow corridor, until he found a woman sitting behind a desk covered with folders and papers. The room was filled with boxes and file cabinets.

"Penny Peabody?" he asked.

"Forgive the office space, but I am a firm believer in low overhead. …Plus I like being close to my clients," she said.

This woman was not what the teenager had been expecting. The blond woman was pretty, but also tough looking. She wore a leather jacket, much like his own.

"Your clients… Being the Serpents?"

"Well, I was and still am a Serpent," Penny said, showing the boy her Serpent tattoo. "They put me through college and law school."

The boy nodded, understanding. "The Serpents are often on the other side of the law, so having one of their own on retainer, helping out, is clever," Jughead declared.

"Well, FP always bragged that you were smart. …Oh, yeah, I know your dad. And I also know the deal he's been offered. It's garbage. The cops may have charged him with arson, destruction of evidence, making a false confession, obstructing justice, and being an accomplice after the fact in the death of Jason Blossom, but they don't have a bit of evidence."

"Can you help?" the boy asked, trying not to sound desperate.

"I know the loopholes," the lawyer stated. "In this case, there are none. But, if you get the victim's family to forgive him, in front of a judge, that might shift things in FP's favor. Instead of 20 years, he can get time served with parole."

"Oh, that's great!" Jug exclaimed. "Thank you! Uh, am I supposed to pay you, or…."

"We're friends," Penny said, leaning forward and smiling. "I do you a favor. One day, _maybe_ , you do me a favor. …Let me know how it goes, won't you?"

The boy smiled, nodded, and reached out to shake Penny's hand. "Sure," he said.

As he turned to go, she called out, "And tell your dad to wear a tie."

* * *

Later that night, as Jughead was making dinner, his cell phone rang. The display showed that the call was coming from Riverdale Prison.

"Hello?"

"You went to see Penny Peabody?" his father asked sounding nervous and angry. _"You asked her for help?"_

"Dad, hey. I did. We didn't have a choice. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Did you pay her?"

"No, she said it was a favor."

"Jughead," his father said sternly. "Listen to me: Do not contact her again. If she reaches out, don't respond. You do not want to be in debt to the Snake Charmer."

"Why? Dad—" But the phone had already gone dead.

* * *

Three days later, Jughead's cell phone rang again.

"It's Penny Peabody," he heard as soon as he answered. "Remember that favor you owe me? I'm calling it in."

"Uh, no. No. Wait, wait, hold on a minute."

"I'm hungry," she stated. "I'll meet you at Pop's."

Twenty minutes later, Jughead was sitting across from Penny.

"I can't do this favor for you, whatever it is. If I have to pay for you helping my dad—"

"He needs more help," she interrupted solemnly. "That's why I called. FP had a little 'accident' with some Ghoulies in the prison showers the other day."

"Oh, my God!" the boy exclaimed.

"Listen. He is in the infirmary now."

"Is he okay?"

"Well," Penny drawled. "They messed up that pretty face of his. The Ghoulies wanted blood payback for the deal you and that Northsider made with Sheriff Keller that got all their higher-ups locked away."

"That wasn't…," the boy's voice trailed away. "What can we do to get him out?"

"For that you would need money. Lots of it," the lawyer stated. "Money greases the wheels of justice."

"I have $18 to my name," Jughead grimaced.

"Hmmm," Penny said. "Well, then maybe we should think of this favor as a job. Right? Just a one-time delivery. You just pick up a crate on the Southside, deliver it to an address in Greendale. That's it."

"What's in the crate?" the teenager asked suspiciously.

"Let's say, um, …pancake mix."

"Penny, I'm not gonna be your drug-runner."

"Of course not. You're gonna be my 'transportation advisor.' Do this, and I'll use your cut of the cash for your dad's case. I'll see what we can do about getting him an early release."

"Okay. Okay, I'll do it," Jughead said. The boy knew his dad would be pissed, but what choice did have?

* * *

After Jughead and Archie delivered the crate to Greendale, the teen went to see his dad in prison. Although the boy was afraid of how FP might look after the Ghoulies' attack, he also wanted to be able to tell his dad that he would be getting out soon. However, when his father sat down across from him, Jughead gaped at him. Clearly, the man had not been assaulted. Penny had simply manipulated the boy to get him to do her bidding. Jughead felt sick.

FP looked intently at his son and said, "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Ahhh," stammered the boy. "I thought you were in the infirmary…."

"What? You thought I was sick?" his father teased.

"It's just…. Penny said…. You were…."

"Jughead. Spit it out. What are you talking about 'Penny said'? I told you to stay away from that bloodsucker. Did she call you again?"

"Well… yes."

"Dammit," his dad growled. "Tell me everything."

"Penny told me you'd been attacked, Dad. She said you needed money to get out of jail. The only way that I could get it was…."

"What?" FP said sharply. "What happened?"

But Jughead looked away and did not respond.

"Boy, answer me when I ask you a question."

"Look, I gotta go," the boy stammered and rushed out of the Visitor's Room.

* * *

Jughead stormed into Penny's office. "What the hell game are you playing, Peabody? You lied to me. My dad's fine."

"I incentivized you," the lawyer answered smugly.

"No, you said that this was gonna a one-and-done."

Penny looked at the teenager for a moment then smiled slowly. "It's not like you have a choice." She held her cell phone up for Jughead to see the surveillance footage of himself and Archie carrying the crate into the warehouse.

"What is this?"

"It's insurance that you'll do what I say," she said coldly. "And if you cause a stink or try to back out, …or raise your voice to me _ever_ again, I will make sure that video goes straight to the Sheriff's office."

The teenage stared, horrorstruck, at the woman. She shook her head gravely, "God, imagine what that would do your dad's heart. …Break it, right?"

Jughead felt ill and used and scared. After a long silence, he whispered, "Why?"

"Your dad made a promise that he didn't keep. As far as I'm concerned, his debt is yours. …And I am just getting started with you," Penny said as she walked out of her office.

* * *

Several days after Jughead and Archie completed Penny's delivery, FP was unexpectedly released from prison and on parole. The boy knew he would have to talk to his father about Penny's manipulation and blackmail, especially after he had left the prison so abruptly but he dreaded the subject. Maybe his dad would understand. Maybe FP would know how to extricate him from the Snake Charmer's grasp.

Jug headed to the Whyte Wyrm for his dad's Welcome Back/Retirement party. He wondered if he should tell FP before the party, when the man was likely to be in a good mood. As he stood by the bar considering his options, there was a swell of noise and Jughead looked around to see his father descending the stairs from his back office. The crowd whooped and cheered until FP, smiling, raised his hand for quiet.

"You know what? I've been in and out of the Serpents since I was younger than my son. And it's been a… _a_ _wild ride._ Good times, bad times, but through it all, the Serpents stuck by my side, while most other people turned their backs on me. My own family included." At these words, FP and Jughead made eye contact. The teen felt stung. Was this about his mom leaving with Jellybean? Maybe something to do with his estranged grandfather? …Or was it something that he, Jughead, had done or said? The boy listened intently as his dad continued.

"Now, the letter of the law says that I can't be here in the Serpent's den. That I can't associate with friends. My _real_ family. My blood." As the crowded roared, Jug winced. The subtle snub was not lost on him. What was his dad really trying to say?

"But I've been thinking about that. And it'll be a cold day in hell before a snake lets a pig tell him what to do."

The crowd's noise was deafening. Jughead stared at his dad, confused and uneasy.

"Northside wants me outta this gang," FP continued defiantly. "Well, they better bring a coffin because FP Jones isn't retiring! I'm not going gently into the night! I'm here to stay! So, bring the fire!" Thunderous applause erupted, as FP finished his speech and moved through the crowd. People clapped him on the back, shook his hand, and even handed him shots. He sauntered over to Jughead, who immediately questioned him.

"What happened to retiring? What happened to AA?"

His dad looked at him for a long moment then pulled him into a hug. "I know about the Snake Charmer. _And_ the delivery you and Archie did. And the debt you owe her. …It was the one thing, son. The _one thing_ I asked you not to do."

"I can fix this," the boy stammered. "Let me just talk to her."

"No," his father commanded. "No, I'm in. You're out. Penny's my problem now. You broke my heart, Jughead."

"Dad…" the boy moaned.

FP took hold of his son's left bicep. "We'll finish this conversation upstairs. I can see that I am not making myself clear to you."  
Dread flooded the boy. He understood his dad's intentions immediately. "No, Dad, please. I can make it right."

Quickly, his father turned back to him, seething. "Boy, I am done discussing this with you. If you say another word, I will take care of you right here."

Jughead nodded and allowed himself to directed through the crowd, passed his friends and their questioning looks, up the stairs at the back of the bar, and into his father's office. The boy heard the door snap shut and the lock click. Jughead slouched against the wall looking despondent.

Father and son stared at each other. Finally, FP quietly demanded, "Take off the jacket."

Jughead complied and dropped the jacket on a chair beside him.

"I told you not to see or do business with Penny. But you ignored me and now here we are, _in her clutches_. I knew what she was capable of and how far she might go to ensnare you. But you don't listen. You know it all!"

"Dad… I'm sorry. Please…."

"Save it, Jug. I'm not interested in your apology. Just tell me this: why didn't you come visit me in the infirmary if you thought I'd been attacked? Why didn't you verify the story? You're a writer and reporter. Isn't that supposed to be your thing? Why no investigation?"

"Penny made it seems so urgent. I was afraid of what might happen to you if I didn't act quickly."

"Son, I'd already warned you not to trust her. I'd warned you not to even talk to her. But you ignored _me_ and listened to _her_." The man shook his head somberly. "Time to pay the piper." FP unfastened his belt.

Jughead's head and shoulders slumped. He trudged over to his father's desk, fumbled to unbuttoned his jeans, and pushed them to his knees. Then he willed his body to bend over the desk, ignoring that every fiber in his being was screaming to run. The boy rested his head on his arms, trying to calm his breathing. His stomach twisted and his legs trembled.

The belt landed with a dull thwap. Jughead bit is tongue, tasting blood. He thought of his friends downstairs and the other Serpents…. Crying was not an option now. As the blows fell, he gritted his teeth and dug fingernails into his arms. After five smacks, tears were threatening to spill. _Six_. Anger was building in the teen. _Seven_. How was this fair when he'd thought his father was injured, possibly dying? _Eight_. Penny. He'd figure out a way to get her back. _Nine_. Ahhh, and get his dad out of debt. _Ten._ Owwww! Jughead was struggling to concentrate and his mind could no longer block out the painful whipping. _Eleven._ The tears streamed down his cheeks and his nose ran. _Twelve_. He'd have to hide up here until he calmed down. _Thirteen_. Maybe Betty didn't notice that he was gone. _Fourteen._ Hopefully no one told her that his dad had dragged him upstairs. _Fifteen._ Jughead couldn't bear the thought that Betty might know that he'd gotten a whipping. _Sixteen._ Stop, please, the boy begged internally. _Seventeen_.

"Jughead. Look at me."

The boy peered over his shoulder at his dad, who was rethreading the belt back through his pant loops.

"Stand up and look at me."

After his jeans were refastened, he faced his father.

"Serpent life is no game. If you can't follow orders, we've got no use for you," FP studied Jughead's face. "You're out. Out of the club."

"You're kicking me out?"

"Not officially. That's done through a vote. But, as your father, who will beat your ass every day if I have to, yes. You're out. _And…_ if you try to have anything to do with Penny Peabody, I will make this punishment seem pleasant. You understand?"

The teen looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him, but finally replied, "Yeah, yeah."

His father nodded and returned to the party, leaving Jughead alone in the office. The boy stretched out on the lumpy couch and listened to the dull thumping of music and rowdy voices. Despite the implied promise he'd just made, Jughead knew he'd have to find a way to free his dad from Penny Peabody.

* * *

 **Please leave your review after the beep. ...Beep...**


	11. Chapter 11

Jughead sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his father to appear. He'd have to approach the subject of the Snake Charmer carefully. FP had been in a sour mood for days now and the boy wanted to stay on the man's good side.

His dad hurried in and poured himself some coffee. He nodded to his son and said, "Good morning."

"Good morning. …I was thinking about our Penny problem."

FP stiffened. "My problem, _not ours_."

"Well, I am the one she has on camera delivering drugs," Jughead replied.

"How I deal with Peabody is _not_ your concern. I'm handling it," his father growled.

"By pimping the Serpents out as drug runners?" the teen said incredulously. The look on his father's face told him he'd gone too far.

"Boy!" FP roared, pointing angrily and taking several menacing steps towards him.

However, a knock at the trailer door interrupted his dad's reprimand. Tall Boy stood on the front stoop holding several duffle bags.

FP greeted the man and said, "Toss them in the corner."

"Hey, what's in the bags, Tall Boy?" Jughead called.

"Hey!" FP bellowed. "What did I just say?"

Without waiting for an answer, his dad crossed the room, grabbed Jughead's arm, and hauled the boy to his feet. Then the man sat on the edge of kitchen table and pulled his son over his knees.

Jughead was aghast to be in such an embarrassing position. He struggled to push himself off his father's lap, but he was being held tightly in place. FP's left hand began smacking the boy's jean-clad rear. The blows fell rapidly. With his backside stinging, the boy silently raged. He had just wanted to help, wanted to keep the Serpents out of danger. And now he was being _spanked_ … _over his dad's knees!_

The teen was acutely aware that the front door stood open and that Tall Boy was in the other room, able to hear everything. He gritted his teeth, hoping this punishment would be over quickly.

After the last painful whack, FP pushed Jughead back on his feet. "I said, 'Mind your damn business.' Now, get to school."

The teen turned, ready to escape his father's wrath, and saw Tall Boy standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling. Jughead glowered at the burly man, grabbed his bag and headed for the door without a word. As he passed Tall Boy, the man jokingly swatted the boy's rear and said, "Have a good day at school!"

The teen slammed the front door behind him, heard his dad roar, felt a pang of alarm and started walking quickly to the bus stop. Jughead's face flushed hot when he saw Toni Topaz and Sweet Pea were waiting for him by the mailbox. They had identical worried expressions on their faces. What had they heard, he wondered.

"Rough morning?" Sweet Pea asked, just as FP threw the front door open.

"Boy! Get over here!"

"I'll catch up with you," Jughead said quietly, turning to face his dad. He walked back slowly to the front steps and stood silently.

"You want me to get my belt?" FP growled.

"No," the boy answered quickly.

"You've had a real attitude problem lately and my patience is gone!"

Jughead didn't trust himself to speak, so he looked at the ground and hoped his dad would settle down. He also hoped his friends would be far enough away not to have heard the exchange.

"You better watch your step, son. I am not playing with you."

Jughead nodded and hurried off. He found Toni and Sweet Pea waiting for him at the bus stop. He strolled over to them, hoping that he looked relaxed despite being mortified.

"You ok?" Toni asked.

"Uh," the boy shrugged noncommittally.

"Man, what'd you do to piss off FP like that? I've never seen him so riled up," Sweet Pea chuckled.

"That's his new normal. Ever since Penny Peabody…. She's got my dad doing her dirty work."

"Yeah? His belt the new normal too?"

" _Sweet Pea!_ " Toni exclaimed.

"Nah," Jughead admitted reluctantly. " _That's_ not new."

Sweet Pea laughed, causing Toni to glare at him.

"Hey, remember freshman year?" she cooed sweetly. "When _your dad_ showed up at that party by the river… with _his belt_? I think he said you'd snuck out and that he was going to 'wear you out'."

"Geez, Topaz, that was low. I was only joking around. Jones knows that," Sweet Pea scowled.

Toni opened her mouth to argue, but Jughead interrupted. "Hey, the bus is coming. Can we just drop it? I'd rather the whole school not find out how my day started." He found it hard to look at his friends.

"Man, what happens in Sunnyside, stays in Sunnyside," Sweet Pea assured him.

Jughead nodded. He quickly changed the subject as the bus screeched to a halt. "We need to do something about Penny. Let's meet after school and figure it out. Out back of the Whyte Worm. …Let Fangs know, ok?"

The others agreed as they climbed aboard and found their seats on the crowded bus.

Jughead rested his head on the cold glass of the window and began mulling over the Penny problem.

* * *

 **Will write for reviews...**


	12. Chapter 12

When Jughead stepped into the lot behind the Whyte Worm, he saw his friends already waiting for him. Toni Topaz leaned against a bike, while Fangs Fogarty and Sweet Pea were sprawled on the broken-down couch.

"Hey," the boy said as he approached. "Thanks for coming. I've got… we've got a problem. Penny Peabody has my dad dealing drugs. I know this, because she had me doing it before him. Now, she's roped in Tall Boy and Sweet Pea."

"Man," Sweet Pea said skeptically. "If you're pissed because your old man tapped me instead of you—"

"No, Sweet Pea. I'm pissed because I don't want the Serpents to end up like the Ghoulies. And I doubt that any of you became Serpents just to be at the beck and call of a drug queen pin."

Jughead gazed around and solemnly continued, "I know where this ends. Death. Jail. …Which is why in the interest of self-preservation, we have to take out Penny."

"Snake Charmer's helped some of us," Sweet Pea cut in.

"Oh, yeah? And what did she ask for in return, Sweet Pea, huh? …How many favors? Now, if we don't stop Penny _tonight_ , she is going to get every single one of us in on this. I promise you that." Jughead scanned the group. "What I am asking is, are you willing to risk your necks to save my dad's life?"

Everyone exchanged uncertain looks.

At last, Toni spoke. "What is the first law?" she asked quietly.

An uncomfortable silence spread through the group.

"No Serpent stands alone," Sweet Pea finally replied. "I'm in."

"Me too," seconded Fangs.

Relief and gratitude filled Jughead and he nodded, unable to speak.

* * *

The night was moonless and still. Jughead approached the seemingly abandoned warehouse where he knew his father was supposed to meet Penny. He braced himself for what he was about to do. If all went according to plan, the Snake Charmer would be out of their lives forever. If not, well, Jughead did not want to think about that….

He knocked at the heavy metal door and heard a woman's voice from within.

"FP? Well, you're early, Old Hoss."

The blond woman threw the door open and immediately scowled.

"Penny," the boy said calmly. He stood alone in the doorway.

She sighed, but replied coolly. "Jughead Jones. Nice crowbar."

"This? Yeah, I brought it in case I needed to pry the door open." He tossed the tool aside.

"Well?" Penny said impatiently. "Are you gonna give me a hand with this stuff? Your dad will be here in like what, 15, 20 minutes. He probably won't be too happy to see you, huh? I might even get to see him use that belt of his. I wouldn't mind that one bit..." The lawyer smiled nastily.

The boy pushed down his anger, trying not to rise to her taunts.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. Neither of us are going to be here when he arrives," he said ominously.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" she asked nonchalantly.

Out of the darkness the other young Serpents stepped into view.

"What is this?" Penny exclaimed, as Fangs and Sweet Pea approached her. "I would not do this if I were you. You are making a big mistake!"

Once the boys held her arms, Jughead threw a pillowcase over Penny's head. She continued to threaten them and curse as they dragged her to Fang's car.

They pushed her into the back of the car where Jughead and Sweet Pea sat on either side of her. None of the teens spoke as the car sped down the dark road.

After twenty minutes, the car abruptly stopped. Penny was roughly pulled from the car and pushed to a seated position. When the pillowcase was removed, the woman looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You're in Greendale. Your new home," Jughead stated. "But frankly, Penny, I don't care where you set up shop."

He bent closer to her and whispered ominously, "But it's not going to be in Riverdale. And it's not going to be with the Serpents. You want to deal drugs, you want to extort people, that's your business. But not on the Southside. That belongs to us."

Penny relaxed as she listened to the boy's words. "You stupid, cocky kid. Serpent law says you can't hurt one of your own."

"Hold her, boys," the teen commanded. Fangs and Sweet Pea rushed forward and grabbed the woman's arms.

"It's time _you_ learned." Jughead sneered. " _That_ tattoo means something. …You _used_ to be a Serpent. But you don't get to keep _any_ souvenirs."

With that, the boy flipped a switchblade open and reached for Penny's arm.

"No!" the woman screeched.

"Oh, Penny, I am just getting started with you."

* * *

Several weeks had passed and Jughead was enjoying the peace that Penny's absence provided. The boy prided himself on outwitting the Snake Charmer, on rescuing his dad, and on being completely undetected while doing so.

FP, too, was relieved that the lawyer seemed to be gone. But he was confident that it was only a matter of time before she returned.

Jughead was soon immersed with new problems. Where was Gen. Pickens' head? If the statue's missing head was returned, would the mayor and sheriff stop punishing the Serpents? If not, how could the teen prevent all the tenants of Sunnyside Trailer Park from being evicted?

Betty suggested that they treat the missing head like a missing person's case and so the boy had spent Saturday morning and afternoon hanging Reward-for-the-return-of-the-head signs around the Southside.

When he arrived at the Whyte Worm, he hung a sign on the wall.

"Hey, everybody," he called. Only then did the teen notice that a Serpent meeting was in progress. As soon as he addressed the crowd, all eyes turned to him and people stepped aside, revealing his father sitting in the middle of the group.

"Jughead Jones," Penny Peabody said, standing up, beside FP.

The boy's blood ran cold. He turned from the blond woman to his father and felt even more unsettled. His father sat silently staring into the middle distance. He, alone, refused to look at the boy.

"Did you really think you'd seen the last of me?" the Snake Charmer mocked.

"What's _she_ doing here? …Dad?"

"I brought her in to help us," Tall Boy replied.

"We don't need Penny's kind of help," Jug said, realizing that he sounded desperate.

"You don't get a say anymore," Tall Boy stated. "Since you broke Serpent law and hurt one of our own kind. Penny was about to tell your dad. Show him, Penny. …Show 'em all."

The woman turned away from Jughead. She walked closer to FP and pulled up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal an ugly scar.

"That used to be my Serpent tattoo, until your son sliced a chunk outta my arm and left me bleeding in a ditch in Greendale."

FP's expression was inscrutable, but he stared at the scar then shifted his eyes to his son. When he turned back to the lawyer, he asked quietly, "What's your price, Penny?"

"Blood for blood. An eye for an eye. I want back in with the Serpents and I want him kicked out."

The Snake Charmer then spun around to face Jughead. "Oh, yeah, one last thing… I want his tattoo carved off. And I want to do it myself. With a dirty knife."

The room was tense and silent. FP spoke with authority, "No, Penny. I won't let that happen. …But you do have the right to demand a tribunal. Do you wish to invoke those proceedings?"

"I do," she answered quickly.

"A motion stands for the convocation of the tribunal? Is there a second?" FP asked the group. Jughead was not certain what was happening, but he felt sweat running down his back.

"I second the motion," Tall Boy said, raising his right hand.

"The motion is passed. The tribunal will meet tonight at 6 pm. Penny Peabody vs. Jughead Jones, Fangs Fogarty, and Sweet Pea Rowe."

* * *

The tribunal was over quickly. Penny Peabody presented her case against the boys, explaining how they had kidnapped her, delivered her to Greendale and abandoned her there. But, before they left her, Jughead used a switchblade to slice off her Serpent's tattoo.

When the boys were given the opportunity to offer their versions, they corroborated Penny's story. Jughead spoke briefly about what had motivated their actions. He described how Penny had lied, manipulated, blackmailed, and basically enslaved multiple Serpents in her drug-running schemes. Then the teen explained that exiling Penny seemed to be the only way to extricate the Serpents from her grasp. Jughead acknowledged that removing Penny's tattoo without approval was wrong. He apologized for taking action without authorization.

After all parties had been heard, the panel—senior members of the Serpents—retreated to FP's office to decide their ruling. The boys stepped out back to get fresh air.

"What do you think, man?" Fangs asked the others, as he sat on the couch.

"I don't know," replied Jughead. "We told the truth and explained why we did it. Maybe they'll be lenient." He sat on an upturned crate and leaned against the wall.

"Maybe they'll kick us out and cut off _our_ tattoos," Sweet Pea said dismally, pacing back and forth.

"No way, man. All our parents are on the panel too. They're not gonna allow it."

"Maybe FP won't, Jug, …but _my dad_ …. He'll vote for whatever is the harshest punishment. …And when I get home…."

"Yeah, my parents are gonna kill me too," Fangs muttered.

"Sorry, I got us into this," Jughead sighed.

The boys waited quietly, each lost in their own worries.

After 15 minutes, Toni Topaz opened the door and called, "The panel has made their decision. You've been summoned."

"Bet you're glad you didn't go with us," Jughead said.

"I don't know," Toni replied. "You tried to do something about a bad situation. …Even if it went too far."

"Let's hope the panel sees it that way," the boy whispered as they entered the now quiet bar.

The twelve panel members sat together, looking solemn. Once the boys and Penny were standing before them, FP stood up.

"Fangs Fogarty, Sweet Pea Rowe, and Jughead Jones, you have been found guilty of breaking the 5th Law: A Serpent never betrays his own. Although the panel strongly condemns your actions, we recognize that you were… _provoked_."

"What the Hell?" Penny interrupted. But FP silenced her with a penetrating stare.

"To kidnap and mutilate another Serpent would never be condoned by the club without a vote. _And_ if these actions had been sanctioned, we wouldn't have **_kids_** handling our business. You ignored _both_ our laws _and_ our hierarchy. Therefore, you need to be reminded of your places. You will each receive a whipping, here in the Serpent's den. To be delivered by your own father." FP paused and looked each boy in the eyes for a minute.

"Do you accept the ruling and consequences handed down by this panel?"

"Yes," Jughead and Fangs said in unison.

"Yes sir," Sweet Pea replied.

FP nodded and turned to the Snake Charmer. "And, you, Penny Peabody. You have been found guilty of breaking the 5th Law also. Additionally, you have violated the 6th Law: In unity, there is strength. Your betrayals, manipulations, and plots to force the Serpent into trafficking have divided the club for the last time. It's over. You are out."

There was a collective gasp and immediately an animated whisper broke out around the room. FP held up his hand for silence.

"You have two options, Penny. Either leave town of your own accord, never to be heard from again, … _or_ you can choose to never be heard from again." The man stood silently, allowing his meaning to be absorbed by everyone.

The blond woman looked stunned. She shook her head, disbelieving, and glowered at Jughead.

"You'll regret this decision," Penny bellowed and turned on her heel, storming out of the Whyte Worm.

As soon as the door closed, FP cleared his throat and said, "Boys, time to face the music. Fenn?"

Fangs, looking rather pale, turned to his father. Although the man was not much taller than his son, he was physically imposing. Tattoos covered his muscular arms and his hair was neatly cropped. Despite his tough exterior, his lilting Irish accent made his words seem almost gentle.

"Now, I warned you, boyo, to stay well away from the Snake Charmer," Fenn said quietly, approaching his son. He unfastened his belt and pulled it free. "Kidnappin' a woman? Attackin' 'er? …You think you're a hard man? Well, if needs be, I'm a hard man. Understand?"

"Yes, da," the boy answered quietly.

"There," he said, pointing to the pool table.

Fangs moved slowly to where his father directed.

"Drop 'em," the man said. Fangs' shoulders drooped, but unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans to his mid-thigh. He bent over the table and waited. When his dad made no move, the boy looked back.

"Drop 'em," Fenn repeated.

As his face flushed, the teenager quickly reached back and jerked his boxers down. The belt fell rhythmically and Fang endured the blows stoically, silently. …Until the tenth smack. Then the boy occasionally groaned quietly.

Jughead tried not to hear the punishment, turned away to spare his friend, tried not to imagine his own turn.

Finally Fenn, breathing hard, said, "Now get off home to your mammy."

The boy quickly pulled his clothes back up and left without making eye contact with anyone.

After a brief silence, FP called out, "Rhino?"

A formidable man stepped forward. He was taller than Sweet Pea by several inches and powerfully built. As he approached his son, he yanked his belt off in one smooth action.

Sweet Pea did not wait for instructions. He moved to the pool table, undid his pants, hooked his thumbs under the waistband, and pulled his jeans and boxers to his knees. He lowered himself over the pool table.

No sooner was he in position then the belt struck the boy's behind, causing him to inhale sharply. With every blow, the teen responded with a stifled grunt or hiss.

Jughead sensed that this whipping was harsher than any he had ever received. He looked at FP, who was watching the proceedings, looking rather concerned.

Red slashes covered Sweet Pea's backside, but the whipping continued until the boy began crying quietly. At that, Rhino abruptly ended the punishment. He turned and walked back to his seat without a word.

When he heard his father's retreating footsteps, Sweet Pea swiped at his eyes and got up, quickly dressing. He moved back to the spot where he'd been before.

FP sat watching Sweet Pea for a moment. Then he stood, and said, "Son." He gestured toward the pool table.

Jughead walked over to his father and stood before him.

"I understand your motivation to free us—you, me, the Serpents—from Penny. But mutilating her? That's the kind of thing you don't come back from, Jughead," FP stated.

"Yeah, like stuffing a teenager's body in a freezer," the teen responded, impulsively.

FP seized Jughead by the collar and slammed him on the pool table. The action did not hurt, but startled the boy. The man's face was inches from his own. Jughead's chest tightened and a hot, giddy feeling settled in his stomach. He had pushed his father too far.

"You need to learn to keep your damn mouth shut," his father seethed. "You brought the Northside down on us because of what you wrote. You got the masses stirred up about Pickens Day and now the bigwigs are breathing down our necks. And now you're giving orders to kidnap fellow Serpents? Cutting up women? Bringing the temple down right on our damn heads?" The man stood up, letting his son wriggle out of his grasp. "You… will be the death of us. Not the Northside, not Penny. You."

FP pulled his belt free and pointed at the table. "Here. Everything down."

Jughead took off his jean jacket and tossed it on the table. Next he unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, and pushed his jeans then boxers down. Bending forward over the pool table, shame and embarrassment washed over the boy in equal measures. He heard the clank of the belt buckle in his father's hand, and it caused the hair on the back of his neck to prickle.

The first lick came quickly. _One_ , Jug counted internally.

"Ooh!" _Dammit! Penny had to go! He knows that, the bastard. Two. Don't cry already! They're all watching. Three. Screw the Serpents! They can all go to Hell. Four. How can I get back in? I want to be a Serpent again. Five. This bastard got stronger. Jesus, Dad, lay off! Six. I talked to the old guys about what happened when— Seven. Shit! You bastard from Hell! I'll never talk to you again. Eight. a person got kicked out. 'Can't keep the tattoo' they said. Nine. 'Cutting up women'? Not fair! Only Penny! She doesn't count, that vampire. Ten._

"Ahhhh," he murmured. _I'll go to Toledo. Just show up. What could she do then? Eleven. Send me back for another whipping probably. Asshole. Twelve._

He wanted to beg, to grab the belt, to make FP see reason. But he remained silent and as still as his trembling legs would allow.

 _Thirteen_ _. I could live on my own again. School wasn't bad. Fourteen. Please, please, please, be over soon. Be over soon! Fifteen. Please don't let people at school find out about this. Sixteen. Sweet Pea and Fangs will kill anyone who talks. Seventeen. Dad! No more. Please, no more. No more, no more, no more, no more._

The mantra continued until Jughead realized the whipping was over. He wiped his sweaty, tear-streaked face on the inside of his shirt. The teen reached down and tugged his jeans back up. Turning to look at his dad and the crowd felt as impossible as dropping his pants and bending over in front of the everyone had. But he forced himself to face everyone and make eye contact.

FP looked dour and tired. He watched his son, but spoke to the group. "The boys have paid their debts. Let's speak of it no more."

The crowd signaled their agreement by talking and milling about again, almost immediately back to normal.

FP draped his arm over Jughead's shoulder. "I know I am probably the last person you want to talk to right now, but I want you to know that I am proud of how you took your punishment... and I am glad Penny's gone."

The boy stared at his father, who quickly added, "Not that I approve of your methods. We're not the Hells Angels, Jug."

The teen nodded and said, "Glad she's gone too. Hey, I am gonna find Sweet Pea and head home, ok?"

"Sure. See you there," FP said. Then he added quietly, "Get Sweet Pea to stay the night. If he argues, tell him President's orders. I'll tell his dad what's up."

Jughead agreed and went to find his friend. Toni and Sweet Pea were standing in an isolated corner talking quietly. Without a word, Jughead gestured towards the door and the three teens made their escape.

As they walked home, Jug muttered, "Man, that was brutal."

The tall teen said nothing, but looked grim.

"Hey, not to be nosy, but is your dad always so hard on you?"

Sweet Pea grimaced and replied, "What are you talking about, Jones? We got the same punishment."

"Yeah, well, sort of. I mean we both got whippings, but your dad's was intense. Are you ok?"

"I will be," the boy said softly.

Toni made a small noise. "I thought it had gotten better with your dad. That's not what I saw."

After several minutes, Sweet Pea stopped walking. "Look, he almost never whips me, but when he does… especially if he's been drinking…."

Jughead nodded. "Come stay with us any time. My dad invited you over for tonight and said he'd clear it with your dad."

"Really? …Thanks. That'd be good." Sweet Pea's expression relaxed.

The friends walked home, discussing their various theories about where the decapitated statue's head might be and giggling about what they would enjoy doing with it.


	13. Chapter 13

Jughead unlocked the trailer, leading Betty inside. Their conversation stopped as they looked around. The living room was in disarray. Drawers pulled out and cabinets open, their contents spilled across the floor.

Jughead stared in disbelief. "The Hell?" he murmured.

Betty scanned the room. "What happened?"

Both teenagers jumped as an angry voice from behind them growled, "Where the hell did you get this?"

FP charged at the teens, holding up the Gryphons & Gargoyle's rulebook. But before Jughead could answer, his dad suddenly grabbed the boy's face, examining it carefully.

"Have you playin' the game?" his dad snarled.

"No," Jughead exclaimed, untruthfully.

"Don't lie to me, boy! I can still see the blue on your lips." FP unbuckled his belt and pulled it free.

"FP! _FP!_ For the love of God, calm down! That won't do any good," Alice yelled, pulling the man away. "And when did you turn into your father?"

She turned to her daughter and tried to reason, "Where did you get that book?"

"Who gave this to you?" FP bellowed, belt still in hand. The boy knew that he had only a matter of minutes to diffuse the situation or everything was going to get much worse.

"Something-," he began, unsure of what he could say that wouldn't indict himself further

"Jug," Betty interrupted. "Do not say anything. Not until they tell us what they know about the game."

"You looking through my stuff now, Dad, really?" Immediately, the boy knew he'd miscalculated. The man quickly grabbed his son's left arm and pulled him towards the trailer door.

"You don't get it," FP seethed. "This game is.… It's pure evil. If I find out you've been playing it again, I will tan your hide. Got it?"

Jughead nodded reluctantly.

"But that won't be necessary," his dad continued. "Because _no one's_ ever gonna play it again."

The two men marched across the yard. Jughead had no idea where his dad was taking him or what he was planning, but the teen's nerves were jangling. Quietly he whispered, "Dad, I'm begging you."

Finally, the man stopped next to one of the trailer park's campfires, which was already lit.

"No, no one's gonna play Gryphons and Gargoyles again," FP stated.

"But that book might be our best shot at finding out what happened to Dilton and Ben," Jug said imploringly.

"How many copies are there?" his father demanded.

"As far as we know, that's the only one. Which is why you can't destroy it."

"Yes, you can. Do it, FP," Alice commanded.

With that, the man dropped the book into the fire. The dry paper pages quickly curled, consumed by the flames.

They all watched the book burn and then finally, FP said calmly, "Come on, Jug. We're going home."

When his son neither moved nor responded, the man reached over and took the boy's arm again. "Come on. It's late. Say good night to Betty. Night, Betty. Night, Alice."

"Night, Betty," the boy nearly whispered. "I'll text you later."

The Coopers said their goodnights and walked back to the station wagon. After the vehicle pulled away, FP once again nudged his son. "Come on. I'll make you a cheeseburger."

"What? So I'm not in trouble?"

"For lying to me? Oh, yeah, you are. You're grounded."

Jughead groaned, but said nothing.

* * *

Betty descended the ladder into Ben Button's bunker. A week had passed since every student at Riverdale High had discovered the Gryphons and Gargoyle's rulebook in their lockers. Now almost every kid in school was playing the game. Everybody, except Betty.

"Jug," she called, walking down the narrow hallway to the bunker's main room. "You won't believe the story my mom told me last night."

However, once she entered the main room, Betty stopped abruptly.

"Jug, what are you doing?" she asked, looking around at the collection of Serpents sitting around a table, playing G & G.

"Betty," Jughead said seriously. "It's all making sense. All of this is becoming clear. The game, the Gargoyle King."

The boy stood, sounding more emphatic. "I'm on Level Three, but it's only a matter of time until I ascend. And I get to meet him."

"Jughead," Betty said urgently. "I need to talk you. ...Just you."

The boy turned and looked at the other Serpents.

Quickly, Cheryl stood up. "Come on, TT. Bughead wants to be alone."

Fangs and Sweet Pea followed the girls out without comment.

Once they were alone, Betty told her boyfriend all about the conversation she had had with her mom the night before. She revealed that their parents and their parents' friends had once played G & G. They'd become obsessed with it that they played every night, usually after having broken into Riverdale High. The game only stopped after their principal was murdered. Jughead listened intently and said, "So you've confirmed…. My dad played G & G in high school, huh? Of course, it makes so much sense."

"All of our parents did. And they swore each other to secrecy. But, Jug, while they were playing, one of them killed their principal back then, Felix Featherhead, either accidentally or on purpose. When he was found dead, he had blue lips. Just like Ben and Dilton, which is why all of this has to stop—"

"Betty, the fact that our parents played G & G just corroborates what I've come to believe, that we have been playing this game for a lot longer than we know. And off-board. Think about it, the Hot Dog rescue, what was that, if not a quest? The Serpents, the Ghoulies, what are they, if not warring tribes. We might as well call ourselves orcs and goblins."

Betty rubbed her eyes and shook her head. "Okay, you're not making sense. And you're also not listening to anything that I am saying. We have nine suspects that are all real, tangible leads. One of our parents could be a murderer, so let's go investigate them."

Jughead shook his head. "You're not seeing the big picture. 'Eldervair,' the realm of Gryphons and Gargoyles is an anagram for Riverdale. The whole game is an analog for Riverdale. The game only exists in Riverdale. That's why we could find it on the web."

"Okay, well, that is a weird coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence. It's all connected," the boy explained. "It's all one big narrative that's still being written and played."

"Okay, you need to calm down, Jug. Who is telling you this?"

"The game. The more I play, the more familiar I become with Eldervair and its rules, the more I see the patterns. The more I understand him or her, and how we'll catch the Gargoyle King. This game is their psychology. It's their imagination. It's how they view Riverdale."

"My mom was right: this game messes with your head," Betty concluded, looking concerned.

"No, no. This is the clarity I needed. This is the truth. G & G's myths, they are our stories. They're our parents' stories. Simple logic, Betty," Jughead concluded. "How do you catch a Game Master? Become a Game Master. And in the end, when I prove that I'm at his level, I'll come face to face with him."

Betty stood, ready to escape. "Fine. As long as you're safe down here, that's one less thing for me to worry about. So you keep playing…. I'm going to go figure this out, starting with our nine suspects."

* * *

Jughead had spent the morning and early afternoon playing G & G with the other young Serpents. The quests they completed and the progress they made gave the boy lots to think about. He'd come home to review his notes and his thoughts about the game. He felt certain that he was about to understand, and then he could ascend.

The boy dozed off on the couch and did not hear his father return home. FP sat down and began flipping through the boy's notebook.

"Jughead," the man bellowed. "So you're still screwing around with this crap, huh, boy?"

"I guess the apple doesn't fall from the tree," the teen responded flippantly.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

Without opening his eyes, Jug replied, "Means I know you played G & G in high school, Dad. And I know all about what happened to your principal during the Ascension Party."

"Ah, Alice…. Well, so you know why I think the game is evil now. But my real question is do you remember what I said would happen if I found out you were playing the game again?"

Jughead's stomach dropped. Slowly he opened his eyes and turned to face his father. "Dad…."

"So, you _do_ remember. Well, let's not waste any time then, boy. Stand up."

"Please, Dad. You don't have to. I'm being safe."

FP did not wait. He reached over, grabbed his son, and pulled him to his feet. Then the man propped his foot on the edge of the coffee table and yanked the teen over his bent knee.

Jughead squirmed, humiliated and angry. He couldn't believe his dad was about to spank him again.

FP's heavy hand landed on the boy's backside, causing the young man's legs to kick occasionally, despite wanting desperately to seem unaffected.

Jug lost count of the number swats his dad delivered. The sting was intensifying with every blow.

"Dad, _please stop._ " To his surprise, his dad set him back on his feet and looked intently into the boy's green eyes.

"I warned you, son. It's a dangerous game. But you _defied_ me and did as you pleased. Two kids are dead already because of G & G! I won't allow you to risk life and limb _for a game_. …Go get the belt."

Jughead felt paralyzed for a moment, but was jolted into action by his father's commanding yell, "GO! NOW!"

The teen went to his father's room and over to the only closet. He examined the three belts that hung there. All were thick and wide and made from pliable leather.

"HURRY UP!" his father roared from the other room, causing the boy to jump. He grabbed the closest belt and walked quickly back to the other room, handing it over.

"Drop your pants, boy."

"Dad, please…."

"The longer you argue or refuse to do what I ask, the longer this punishment lasts. Do it!"

The boy sighed. He unsnapped and unzipped his jeans, pushed them to his knees, and stood waiting for instructions.

"Bend over the table."

Jughead did as he was told. He heard his father swing the belt back and then back down again. The collision caused the boy to gasp. He always forgot how much a whipping hurt. Sharp stings and radiating heat crisscrossed the boy's backside. By the fifth smack, tears ran down his cheeks and by the seventh, he struggled to remain quiet.

"Daaaaaad, stoooooop, please." But the only response he got was another whack.

The belt found its target eight more times, leaving the boy crying and whimpering.

Finally, FP put the belt down on the coffee table and spoke softly, "If I _ever_ find out you have been playing that awful game again, I will pull your pants and underwear down and beat you black and blue. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it."

FP sat on the couch while Jug got dressed.

"Come sit with me," the man said quietly.

Jughead eased himself onto the couch and FP pulled the boy close.

"Listen to me. I will do anything to keep you safe. I'll tan your hide every night, boy, if that's what it takes."

"I get it, Dad. No more game. Nothing but gang wars and murder investigations for me. I'll take the safe life."

FP laughed and gave his son a one-arm hug. "That's my boy. Gotta play it safe."


End file.
